toward Van Gogh

As the starlight swirls
make clouds out of bread
thrown to the sun
the hungry sun
take it quickly and eat it
It became a crescent moon
the moonlight follows the curve of the mountain tops
rolling along
no one can see
an dancing arborvitae tree
I stabbed at the end. The painful sound
It rang like a bell
people waking up
and looked up at the dawn sky
a starry night
The shaking stars,
not dark
the night sky sloshing around
between heaven and earth
on the seas.