Last night the moon came dropping its clothes in the street.
I took it as a sign to start singing,
falling up into the bowl of sky.
The bowl breaks. Everywhere is falling everywhere.
Nothing else to do.
Here’s the new rule: break the wineglass,
and fall towards the glassblower’s breath.
this is half moon outside my window, camera balanced on 2 stools and a cutting board. Maybe I’ll get a tripod one full moon and get a better shot – but you get the idea.