Pointing The Moon Out

Poem By Curtis Goodnight

I was pointing the moon out just the other night
saw my finger instead and  i wondered which was right
cause its looking that way
and not the other looking back
makes it all come together
ashen white to neon black

and Tom Waits on the radio 
hoping not to fall for you
while i sang in pieces
the way all old lovers do
cause its looking that way
and not the other looking back
makes it all come together
ashen white to neon black


I sat around sun clad. drank in the dogged dawn
seven breezes brought me butterflies
couldn't bring your scent along 
cause its looking that way
and not the other looking back
makes it all come together
ashen white to neon black

Comments about Pointing The Moon Out

wow! With its rhythm sounds like a French Rondeau in Alexandrine. I'll add this to my favourite poems' list. Bowled over by it and Norah's comments, I second.
Seven breezes brought me butterflies They could not bring your scent along Exquisite! ! ! Curtis Beautiful zen poem


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