| Are You Thrilled on WordPress.com

Pleasant Street got this #fullmoonsocial going earlier this morning…enjoy…

 

I need a friend veracious and true I offer my hands, and a knack for speaking in blue if you steal the moon for me I won’t tell on you

Source: | Are You Thrilled on WordPress.com

Full Moon — The Cheesesellers Wife

The moon has risen and it’s time to start the #fullmoonsocial! Thanks to the cheeseseller’s wife for the first tagged poem of the night…

Full Moon I wave at the man Smiling in his immensity Sketched out by mountains and lava flows And call him friend He has lit my way home Coloured my evenings Lit up my childhood With dreams of space travel How many others look up and see him this way The Man in the Moon? […]

via Full Moon — The Cheesesellers Wife

#FullMoonSocial Tonight!

 

moonagain

JS

Big full harvest moon tonight. Let’s celebrate with another #fullmoonsocial! Any time after the moon rises (7:30 pm in my neck of the woods in Virginia) compose and post a poem and tag it #fullmoonsocial on WordPress, Twitter, Instagram, etc. I’ll try to keep up and re-post all the tagged poems I can find here on this site.

I know you’ve stared up at the moon wondering who else was doing the same at that very moment. Tonight, share your thoughts while you’re doing it.

See you tonight!

Love and Sleep

Love and Sleep

We lay here on the edge with a handful
of words not knowing when it will come

upon us and knowing when it comes
(the words will be left to stand guard)

it will be without knowledge
of us and without us knowing it has come

then the skidding slippery acceleration
then the slow wholeness of a moon passing overhead

*

most of our memories congregate here on its borders
but are not allowed inside we remember

gaining it we remember losing it
rubbing our eyes with the shock of its absence

we lay here not wanting to forget a thing
but to enter it is to forget

the weight of everything else

*

we wonder sometimes what really happened

when we were there and the answer is always
much more than that happened

the loss of context that puts all into context
the details of our days all birds and sand

I have given up trying to remember anything
more detailed than that wing of a smile

but even when we know we will never lose each other
we cannot stop the alarm it is in another world after all

so here on the edge we gather with our words
the words listen for us and try to remember

while we’re gone and to hum the song
we were singing once we’re gone

The Switch

The Switch

–then everything else which turns off at night
is the switch that turns on the crickets

is there a thing at all in cricketsong
that means I remember

that bridges the slow heaving wave
of frozen ground between years

is there anything
by which they know they go on

do they need to when they hear
with their legs by which they leap only forward

and sing with their wings which cannot take them backward
what else must a cricket do to prove it needs

no memory

*

behind my house at night I forget
I am in a city the song is so loud

like the earth breathing in and out
the owl marking his territory in the pitch dark

is absorbed into the song it seems impossible
there could be as many crickets on the ground

as there are cricket voices in the air
till the sun climbs over a rock and shuts them off

in the morning which is the switch
for ten thousand starlings to fill the space

with another season–

Looking Backward Across an Early September Day

Looking Backward Across an Early September Day

Geese evacuate beneath the moon’s thin retraction
Trees are whispering their new addresses to each other

and now the houses breathe without coughing
I shrug free and share the sigh of open windows

In the blue morning the sky’s a cut-out
key unlocking summer’s heavy stockade

When the world was upside down
you fell into my arms and I woke