Blood ring moon sinks her teeth a little colder.
When she’s high, she gets you dancing, wet and naked.
Coming down is a solo, lunatic affair.
It’s crooked orbit physics; some kind of non-Euclidean romantics.
She led me, half seduced in finite semantics until we reached the thought of a
the universe I finally could swallow.
It’s all hyperbolic, extremes and curves, no edges.
Boundaries bleed into night and make puncture wounds out of stars.
It’s dark cosmology, a tiger eyed luster. It’s like biting silver.
Don’t let her finish you.
Prelude: “Don’t Trust The Blood Ring Moon” is an original prose poem with a foreboding, darkly romantic mood that lightly references astrophysics.