[#fullmoonsocial] Waiting for the moon to rise over the power lines behind the fields by the old school for the deaf and the blind

[#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.

Mid-Autumn Visit

Here we go! Thanks SJH!

Unnatural Banquet

It has been too long,
yet I stumble but little
in this atmosphere.
You cradle me against
your cratered breast
as if I had never left.

To live or to endure?
Ageless, the question
never vexes you.
You shape my answers
with as many cups
as inspiration takes.

I could drink oceans
of your kind of light.

You tell me our stories
have enough tragedy:
I should write love.
By dawn I’ve woven
a tapestry of sighs
to turn your face red.

I make my excuses:
mortal hours make for
brutal schedules.
Your rabbit cackles
at his endless toil,
and offers me his job.

If he were serious
I wouldn’t hesitate.

Earth-moon Earthrise – Apollo 8, taken by Bill Anders, NASA, 12/24/1968. Via NASA on The Commons http://flic.kr/p/fpXP13

………

The combination of Harvest Moon and Mid-Autumn Festival was hard to resist, and there’s a #fullmoonsocial going on! Thanks to Jeff Schwaner

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#fullmoonsocial tonight!

harvestmoon

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…

Epitaph for a snake I have seen in my backyard from time to time who has the trick of going missing in an instant when I try to follow it making me wonder where it goes and what else is there

snake

Epitaph for a snake I have seen in my backyard from time to time who has the trick of going missing in an instant when I try to follow it making me wonder where it goes and what else is there

 

Can you slide nicely by and observe, next time
you are there in the place of missing things,

My mother’s memories of me
When I was in her grasp and understanding?

Every time you disappear along the stone wall
You take something with you of the present

Stuck between your sliding scales but
Your going gives us the gravity to grieve

Denying friction while it powers every move.
Meanwhile in the backyard where you were

Every unbending blade of grass
brings up a new point against you

Your own path disappearing

Where your trail turns on its tail.
There in the place of missing things

Tonight I will send for you
To bring something missing back for me

Cicada shell

Cicada shell

Elephants tiptoe time’s twisting invitation.
They know a full footprint there means to forget.

As you drew them into being and forgot them.
As the shadow of a word is its own weird requirement.

The stuff of days is what’s available
In the air, the chimney swifts of thought

Where inside night’s mortared column each
clings to the smallest difference of surface.

I scramble across air’s planes to get
Particles closer to you

Like emptiness I’m thick with longing
And thin in grip

Six late-August evenings (6)

Six late-August evenings (6)

 

6.

Amsterdam Avenue. A memory of a memory
Hiding beneath the cooling street. Like litter

Chasing cars and settling without regret
Along the surface and away, further away

With every step towards the next autumn.
Whose wake are we in now,

Thinking we’ll catch up to them, finally
And make it right?