Daniel Edward Moore
Kind of admits to your absolute need to ride the fence
of commitment to watch the hand not hold it
watch the veins in my hand bruise bright
in circles that lasso your eyes.
Stampeding nightly hooves on your chest
trampled beauty on the reckless range
where cowboy meets stud meets mare messiah
with a fist full of one-dollar bills for your chaps
with words to discuss over morning coffee
after long distance death threats &coyote calls.
You never showed up with a saddle on time
to tame my herds of lies always riding bareback for me
out of & into the barn.
When father made the world his friend
but not his friends, the world,
I entered space at a fragile age,
a confederate kid on a red clay rocket
learning how distance & divinity worked
turning strangers into gods, sitting
next to me at Holiday meals mother made
as if they were our last.
In case the adopted, exiled ones,
prone to disease & the thrill of disorder
chose a path of landmines left
by delicate, skinny, fuse loving things,
earthbound sissies like me.
Daniel lives in Washington on Whidbey Island.
His poems are forthcoming in Weber Review, The Cape Rock, Kestrel,
RipRap, The Timberline Review, River Heron Review, Passages North,
Passengers Journal, The Night Heron Barks, Coachella Review,
Ocotillo Review and Nebo Literary Journal.
He is the author of the chapbook “Boys “(Duck Lake Books) and
'Waxing the Dents,' is full length collection is from Brick Road Poetry Press.
Visit him at Danieledwardmoore.com.