The Contest

The moon is too early too eager too ambitious
       to get a leg up, a planetary orbit up
                     on the happy rival: the sun

The blue-orange light with the orb half stuck in it –
                     It looks ridiculous,
              banal, superficial

Why can’t things let other things be?
                     Why this need – always – for superimposition,
                                   for competition, for greedy knowledge, for pretension?

       I should have looked away long ago
                     Now I can only wander, a blind Tiresias
       And the sun and the moon, laughing, mocking,
              floating like disembodied heads

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