Upon Lunar Eclipse (Rep.)
F
Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr
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Passing torch to the Sun
and skies metamorphosis
from silver black to gray,
mime dancers bleed in sage,
the shroud of a nascent oddity,
I ask what could this be
stroking my tired brain,
then-
streams, like core-spun thread
criss-crossing midnight eye's,
narrow crescents curve
ostensibly breaking silence,
when-
a shadowed crackling smile
across the atmosphere appears,
obscuring the absorbance of rich hues
from the Iris of my drifting eye,
levitating slowly, softly -
soft as Egyptian cotton-
on sheathes of charcoaled winds.
And, what be this I feel
stroking my nebulous brain,
where-
Shadows cover shadows,
umbra's pass penumbras
and consortiums of comets
migrate...like fireflies,
embering celestial skies,
producing beaconed lines
like surgical spotlight....
discharging symptoms and signs;
please, tell me someone what be this
stroking my hollow brain,
who-
paints silhouettes on rims of white,
passing o'er another days Sun?
And your eye's be not burned
from it's sockets by this,
upon Lunar Eclipse.
FjR-MMXV
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