Moods wax and wane
like a trembling earth
and grow stronger...

Through a crack moonlight seeps.
I can't hide.
Crazily I claw to get out. 
There is no asylum.

   ...I'm a closet wolf.

Part of my brain 
so temperamental 
to the fullness of moon
and the signals it sends
in frequencies most do not hear
or feel.

   ...the sun hardly phases me.

But that mysterious rock
which circles my world
animates madness
with clock-work synchrony
tugging my sanity
with strange gravity

   ...I have the fever again.

Dripping with emotion
I howl in the hazy hot of heat
and run with the dogs
like a freed lunatic
transformed and born once again...                                      © 1999 by David Bozzi