Lies of a Poet

And old one that finally won me over from a completed notebook.

Lies listened when she talked.

She talked without the lies

on her lips. Her mouth was 

closed to her words, still she lied,

way out there. The wolves howl

her lies for her, making the moon

grin for her; undeserving she

praises the moon. Mother moon's

warm laugh lines lie for her,dimpling 

the ocean in a ballerina-parody

of a whirlpool, collecting stories,

and words. The ocean's deep sucking

mouth lies for her, spitting out the poets

and the wreckage when her rage is spent.

The poets lie for her.

But only to save her sorry poet skin.

Author's Note

Just finished another notebook and went back to find poems that never made it onto here, that I now deem worthy.