johnsonboy

There are only so many stars
many of them owned already
and just a little light
that can really be called yours
out of all that pours through heaven.

the love takes your money and the money
takes your love

let's call tonight's moon property.
that makes us thieves
who lie out aching
or hungry, sick of being clay
pieces with that angry illumination.

can't be fed without driving a knife
into something and can't get home
without burning that last bucket
of fat cut from the land.

always hard to be alive
I mean hard
and when the old folks
lean under the moon to take a drink
they can never get enough

of that moonshine passing
through their carved hands.