Moonlight

Four irate interlocutors on the tour

Tarnished faucets, as in being lost in a small white room

Not that the earth’s become something

Heard a ghost in a tree, luminous memorial

*

In names inhere standards
Stark discourse, speech, not talk

Such terms distinguish
Wigelia from artichoke

The food we eat in a day
Forgetting to say a prayer for

I’m not he, here, where
The rubber meets the road

What power of the stated?
What seriousness of the joke?

To stand by or under anything
For its own sake, for yours

Which ladder surmounts today?
Still the bright moon blurs

And silvers all the grasses,
Behind, above, below, in front