Poem for Night Owls

O Moon
of the hackled night
like a door ajar,
a door ajar with chalk,
with oldest chalk
of oldest board,
[who talks all night
on the starry telephone]
write on these floorboards,
make me get out of bed
to copy your thoughts
on paper or light
like paper, where
we are now, inside a net here,
another door ajar,
and everyone
like moonlight
pinging around
on Facebook,
and Hey,
oh you people made of moonlight,
feel free to add me.

The Moon’s Got Game

Be generous as the moon is with its light.
Give much for a while, then, maybe,
just a little, diminish, night by night.
Then disappear entirely for a while.
And reappear as just the teeniest sliver,
a Cheshire smile. This should turn your lover
to a lunatic, and keep your bedlife
wholly interesting.