Simon Howard, To laugh at cartoons and other philosophy is to risk madness

By day
by night
by neither
the moon carving
itself from ice
in our bulky clothes
our clumsy kisses
breaking away.

A cityscape
of blades
and ribbons
the moon as though
attempting to kiss
the moon itself as though
the loneliest lovers
who’ve never been.

In rooms where less
than one has entered
or departed
one light
bulb floods the space (bare)
in our nakedness
we are replicas
of incomplete strangers,

mouths taste of peppermint.
Somnambulistic days
insomniac nights
there’s a police there who for some
reason stands upon its helmeted
head, therefore to laugh at cartoons
and other philosophy
is to risk madness.

And us in our nude clothes
shivering and telling fortunes.
Our thoughts
wordless; your feet in sparkly shoes
skipping to the ends
of any planet. (A minuscule
shard of moon appears
on the nail of my left little toe)