The moon appears tonight
like a Dan mask; it appears
to sleep in the sky, or be pulled
by the light of gravity around
its forehead and cheek existence.
Streetlights imitate it, or become
their own tiny moons, or radiate
in imitation of the gone sunlight.
Leafy stems stick out of tree tops
forming their own tree on top
of a tree, like the head inside of
a head.
Stars have their own
power system, based on apparent
wealth.
The sun-glass screen is
faulty; my eyes get maced by the light.
