Silver Leaves of the Moon
Two black dogs howl at the moon
as we walk through the forest
looking for our selves, as moonlight
strobes between trunks,
as pine needles crunch under our feet
and even though it is night it is not dark
as we are out with silver lanterns
as we walk from this tower to that one
as crustaceans crawl from memories
dwelling in the depths of once powerful wells.
Do you see in the pitch black
like the blind? Do you leave the door open
to hear the music of the countryside
even when you want to stay at home
all Saturday night? Do you accept
the violent ripcurls of the tides that kiss
the black sand beach of El Bollullo?
These are the questions lacing the howls
of two black dogs, exalting their companion,
Hecate, as they shake off waters
of the subconscious from their coat.