Looking for a Door in the Moon
Drilling the edges
shy of center,
my saw carves off the corners
light trickling
from the periphery
catching
my hands
forearms
sides of my legs
but glancing away
from my face.
Moon Skewers
Skewer me moon
my cocktail party
needs thank you
favors and no one else
can offer
personalized moon
cut-outs.
A thousand dollars
here
and there
is all it takes
for my friends
to not find
moon skewers
any place
but mine.
Asking You to Stay
Dropping a hint
at the full moon’s
rising
I pulled
from the roots
daffodils
tulips
peonies—
spring’s best
in full light
of a full moon
hoping to hold
this phase
in place.
Failing at Forcing Waning
When it’s full,
screw the top off
see if you can force it
to be half
or less
than half
or waning.
When you don’t succeed
at forcing waning,
give up and invest
in night-blooming gardens.
Moon on My Fork
Similar to
a baked potato
I thought I could
stand on a tree
look through a fork
at the moon
and see through fine
slats
if it was done.
I knew I couldn’t touch
even the rim
but I thought
if I gestured
in the right direction
I could get a sense
of level
of done.
Up a tree
looking through
forked slats
the light is refined
and if I squint
the moon goes away
but doesn’t come
nearer
and doesn’t tell me
how close to done.
Moon In Search of a Day Job
Bored to be the moon
so looking
for a good cloud
or spare sun
to transpose with.
When you’ve got
a night job
everyone else
sleeps through
you prefer
the sun or just
to have a function
people are awake to.
Chip Off the Old Moon
Chip off the old moon
just finding rocky
scraps of unnamable
fragments in the garage.
You told me
they came from the moon
and you’re not
an astronaut
it’s true
but I like
to believe you.
Holding said
moon chips
up for light
I have to remember
not to turn off
the garage light
with the moon
you said
these came from
now, throwing off
no light tonight.
Gardening on the Moon
Gardening on the moon
little light
but no passersby
to interfere
with my nocturnal
blooms.
Working in the laboratory
I keep churning
hearty cross-breeds
planning a send-up
of gold folds
or pink layers
of earth bloom
fit for a replanting
with no sun
no water
but a long rocky
face to themselves.
Moon Police
Moon police
is that crater
approved for inhabiting
or just one-day
excursions?
Remember to declare
moon dust
at customs
try not to smuggle
moon rocks
not sold
by certified moon
vendors
and please
turn the light off
before you leave.
Lunatic Highway
Driving alone
through the moon
I couldn’t belive
how smooth
the cut of clouds
seemed to slice
the moon in two.
Setting my wheels
upward with nothing
filling my engine
to could get me
there
I attempted
the lift through
the lunatic highway.
Moon’s Solitude
Solitude
the moon
doesn’t mind saying no
to lingering on a phase
or allowing a tide
to stay longer.
Alone in its movements
the moon doesn’t mind
being the only
moon
among clouds
stray planets
being the only
one
who can move
the ocean.
Couldn’t Be Your Waitress
Couldn’t serve you
couldn’t be your
waitress
said the moon
traveling as I am
on high
forever monitoring
sky oscillations
I have nothing
I’m willing to
give you
as you are
so low
but I drop
in passing
light shreds
you can use
as you can.
Choices of the Moon
Inspecting your choices
you had none
but to endure
all the phases–
fluctuating light
and often insufficient
darkness to sleep,
but you knew
your favorite phase—
the one unseen—
new—
would be back.
Moon Climbing
Learning to climb
the moon staircase
wasn’t hard.
I just repeatedly
looked up, longed
for light
and sought the mid-
night solace
of alone with spot
light instead
of cocktail
party.
Looking at the light
alone
repeatedly
it was easy
to see myself
in the moon.
Moon with a View
To dine
with a view
from the moon
is to forget
the crumbs
on your plate
the howling
dogs at your feet.
Table set
the crumbs
howling animals
don’t matter
seeing through
blackholes
burned out
stars
abandoned space suits
flags
ripped apart
by errant astronaut
forays—
looking back
with a view
of home, far enough
away to appreciate.
Smothering a Moon Half
Sliced in half
I wondered
at the other half
I hid under
my pillow.
Half as a bright
for twice as long,
I slept well
atop smothered light.
Absent—Gone to the Moon
I forgot to count space
absences
the same as your others.
Suited in space
technologically advanced
gear
ready to explore
the universe’s largest
nightlight,
I stood by pretending
the light you traveled toward
was you.
The light in my lone room
I thought was you
as you kept trekking
away
the suited alien
from earth.
Dying Star, Full Moon
The star burning out
leaped past
in dying streak
the full moon
wondering if
brightness at its peak
so near
would diminish
its final showing.
In the Moon’s Hand
Poem written
on the moon’s face
the moon blushing
with harvest color
yellowish, a little
like a juandiced
baby;
the script of passing
clouds, stars dying out
winks at us
an inscrutable poem.