All poems and fiction here for your enjoyment and are copywritten by Bill Jungels. They may not be reprinted in any form or included in other web sights without written permission from the author. Your comments are invited. Please email me. You'd think that time slicing a new piece off the moon each night would leave her permanently broken.
Time stands still.
The will that makes things go again is the moon's. It grows like a mushroom or a belly that has taken the dark into itself. 1975 Pittsburgh night drive 65 mph stripes of light in air walking towards me out of the darkness around the edges of the old farm house blocking the lamp in the yard.