Lichen Glows in the Moonlight

John I'm John Kinsella, and this is Lichen Glows in the moonlight Lichen glows in the moonlight so fierce only cloud blocking the moon brings relief, then pass by recharged, that leaps up off rocks and suffocates. There is no route through rocks without having to confront its beseeching it lights the way, not the moon, and outdoes epithets like phosphorescent, fluorescent, or fluorescent. It smirks and smiles and lifts the corner of its lips in hideous or blissful collusion, and birds pipe an eternal dawn, never knowing when to sleep or wake. They might be tricked into thinking their time's up in the spectrum of lichen extra gravital persuasion, its crackling movement. Remember the still indifferent, barely living under the sun or on a dark night, climbing up, you escape. But like all great molecular weights, it leaves traces you carry with you into the realms of comfort and faith.