From a moon

The moon has limits too

Her wings are shorter in the summer

Like a winter fur

I can see the eye—the cat

I hear the singers scream—

And the moon

I will become—

“Listen,” says the daughter of the starry sky

Lift me up to the tree of winter

So that I can see the summer sky

They are dreams of fury

See the sky below

And they reach endings, or they are

09-02-1986