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Juggler Poem

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					                   Juggler

        The blue-black plate of sky
        Teeters on a point of zenith
        Like a juggler's disc
        Twirling on a stick.
        Intrepid owls (2)
        Interrogate the
        Intruding moon
        Until splashjangling
        Dawn splits
        Night blue into
        A billion oranges
        Molded into a smolder.
        Up comes the sane sun
        Wheeling the lunatic
        Moon on ahead and
        Tumbles it off the brink
        Of spinning sky,
        To be caught by the
        Juggler and thrown up
        There perhaps again.


Copyright © 1985 by Alan Harris. All rights reserved.
  From An Everywhere Oasis at www.alharris.com

				
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Description: A variety of poems and stories and Mqlat words of poems and poetic advice NES Poems Hair Entries hair Books Notice Stories by Alan Harris, 2003-2007