avatarAimée Brown Gramblin

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d into angel hair pasta this afternoon, and eat a nice meal while I watch the stars blink on and off. When I can’t stand the heat of the pepper or the pasta or the moon, I reach for night and quickly drink it. Feeling content, I tumble to the ground where I’ve been laying on the grass all along.</p><p id="6e65"><b>~<a href="undefined">Aimée Gramblin</a></b>, 1995ish.</p><div id="9a05" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/poetry-exists-because-some-people-refuse-to-take-the-moon-just-for-what-it-is-3e73cd94c827">

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            <h2>Poetry Exists Because Some People Refuse To Take The Moon Just For What It Is</h2>
            <div><h3>Moon Phases: A lesson on writing poetry with a short anthology collection</h3></div>
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Dinner: A Whimsical Moon Poem

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Photo by Just Another Photography Dude on Pexels

I dangle my legs off the yellow glow that burns the night. I take a chunk of moon and grind it with a pepper mill into a thousand glowing pieces, and I take the sun that I shredded into angel hair pasta this afternoon, and eat a nice meal while I watch the stars blink on and off. When I can’t stand the heat of the pepper or the pasta or the moon, I reach for night and quickly drink it. Feeling content, I tumble to the ground where I’ve been laying on the grass all along.

~Aimée Gramblin, 1995ish.

Poetry
Aimee Gramblin
Moon
This Happened To Me
Creativity
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