a dog barked at the moon

when i crawled from my hole

a dog barked at the moon

it was a nearly perfect white one

i read my book by the glow of that celestial lamp,

grabbed a bottle filled with ripe red grape,

and shouted to an overhead airplane

it glided down to grab me by the throat

and laughed when it went by

i sat near the shore of a small pond,

under the tree with no leaves.

three gold fish swam nearby,

and headed to the bank.

like criminals that have no money,

they looked at their hands

which were empty.

i often see them when the water is low.

they wear wigs and pray for rain.

i worry about their happiness.

the moon drops and will not get back up.

it is asleep with the dog.

i do not finish my book.