It’s after cats but before owls.
The moon fills its pockets and hangs
Out behind the house next door.
Like the sky’s a comfortable side street
You can ride a skateboard or bike along
And find a new favorite skipping stone
You’ll hold onto until the next time
At the creek, which will be days from now
And you think of the curve of her shoulder
As she threw and the water was too
Respectful to swallow the stone, the
Three steps it took on the water and the click
Of it coming to rest on the other bank
And like that you’re rising, full of someone
Else’s light, up above the neighborhood
And the whole world can see you now,
Like the sun on her shoulder,
The whole world can see.
Tarot Basics for Late-Night Walks
All things being equal
I will take the eight of swords.
The lady in my dreams sits up the tree
A ways next to the star. The card
For the eight of swords has only four edges
But each is a double edged sword
So you should keep it in your pocket
When approaching trees in dreams.
[#fullmoonsocial] Waiting for the moon to rise over the power lines behind the fields by the old school for the deaf and the blind
Home of the cardinals.
The train sound twins as it passes through
Echoing off unresponsive brick and glass
Over the darkening grass. It’s like there are two
Trains, the past casting an echo of the future
And then it’s gone, both of them
And still no moon.
The moon has not yet quite risen here in Virginia. Gaze, glance, glare at that moon and write something. Then tag it #fullmoonsocial so we can all join in. Whether you see it in a quiet rural place or a blurry suburban parking lot, it’s up there. Which means there’s the stuff of poetry out there for you to grab.
I’ll reblog what I see throughout the night…
Looking to the ground on an overcast full moon evening and seeing the sky
And on waking we move from the month
of vines to the month of ivy.
our own growth relies on support to sensing
and a path we create by ascending.
Thunder moon song
Imagine thunder, a year’s worth of it,
Crammed into a high speed second
Of replay: that’s a cricket.
Imagine a summer lawn full of them,
each chirp a year, an entire night
Of it, just below the grass line while
Above it every firefly’s a conflagration
Over territory, driving extinctions
And drawing death from the sky
Like lightning. Imagine standing
In your yard above it all. Oddly at peace.
Away from the lights of your house.
A few minutes go by. That’s the moon.
Beautiful, shining orb
in space. Insanity reigns.
Reflecting the sun.