Monkey Sets Sail for the Moon Palace

I do not know your phases from the moon

but from some time and place upon the earth

I stopped to write a poem late, and soon

the summer ended. Merry solar birth

does not outshine the momentary flash

when tides within me hasten to your shores

and roll across your beaches with a crash

so carelessly, careening aft to fore,

and thunder shouts aloud that lightning came.

It rings about the axis of the flare

in which you stand. “Diana” be thy name

for some All-Knowing Love-It-All could care.

The monkey’s name was “Monkey.” She was “God.”

The lesser one would shake, and She would nod.