Yesterday’s Moth

A cloth thread
it was yellow; shinning
bright steel blue
cob webs; recyclability
drips design retractable
and Tuesday received
buckets freely
I see a moth
from yesterday poems on
a blank piece of paper
cloth; thoughtfully pinned
inside made
thoughtfully re-read intimately
exhaust/senescent
tube; in my heart
leering down
it’s sinful weakness

My ears are doing-that
windshield-wiper
thing-slowed-down
wiping out
hands off; buzzards; leftover
ground down white wrapped yarn
the bones of a coat; hung hanger
wreck debris aged
falling of the bone
in waves; falling off the bone
in waves; it just comes
nothing hurts
it’s supposed to

 

Poem By Heather Whitley Gibson

“The Gods” – Poem By: Heather Whitley Gibson

Here comes Zeus in his zuit suit
Hercules in all his glory
hot and bothered, looks for Venus
history and poetry
standing at the Mayan temple
watch them sacrifice a child
Egyptians prepare a mummy
watch out the gods are on fire
all chant when the sun shines bright
the gods, the moon, the night
looking at the stars and Mars
watching Aztecs playing ball
voices speak to Persephone
George is singing my sweet lord
everyone try’s to stand tall
even when their idols fall
what you must do against all odds
is try your best to worship the gods
some people take time to pray
pray to Billy Holiday
some even praise animals
to stop sky and thunder from falling
and after the day is done
some pray to Jim Morrison
walk to the door and turn the knob
drop to your knees and worship the gods
muses mount the Trojan horses
pyramids and the white house
Apollo take your pick
shine your tongue and join the mob
drop to your knees and worship the gods