To make poetry's possible
At home even briefly in the human wild.
                                    ~Olga Broumas


As you raise a beer to December's long night moon in the sky,
your poems soar above the page like a second
moon in the sky.

As the candles of years to come blaze brightly, the sun will rise
again and again, soft as a deer, gold doub-
loon in the sky.

I'm sure of these things, sure as you'll play Prine's Christmas in Prison,
sure you'll blow from east to west like a ty-
phoon though the sky.

I wish I could fly you a snowball from Maine, packed in dry ice,
sent overnight to Georgia like a maca-
roon through the sky

so you could toss winter high, and confound the neighbor's wife who'd
exclaim, my goodness dear, is that a second
moon in the sky?


�2006 by PJ Nights