One day I will meet you on a dirt track
and ask about backyard where the moon lives.
Will you give me a kiss of the clock?
I have forgotten the back years.
Autumn now takes care of my assets
and I keep on erasing the names.
O, harvest moon, don’t go away.
I was playing with the black thoughts
eating the yellow grass,
learning the alphabet of white pain.
It was a crystal mid-moon,
dark animal,
who has taken away all the tears.
