Tag Archives: fullmoonsocial

September moon song

September moon song

sepmoon

The mist blows across the moon
And makes the low sound of time

That you hear in your bones and eye-sockets,
That old houses hear. The floor boards

Remember when they were part of something bigger
But when they sing to the moon it sounds

Flat, like uncertain foot-falls in a dark hallway.
The screech owl in the backyard

Is like someone who laughs before they have told
The joke and then had no reason to tell it.

And the two voices talking about a dream
One had, up at maple leaf level; they fade

And drift, like a moon across a window pane,
Or the impression on the grass of a possum’s pink feet.

What does an eclipse mean? Let’s have an eclipse social! #pathoftotality

owl eye

Many of you have joined in our full moon socials over the last few years. Whether you are in the path of totality or not (here in Virginia we’re not but will still see quite a sight) the solar eclipse is another moment in which the moon plays no small part. But what part does it play, for poets? for photographers? artists and prose writers?

On Monday August 21st, I invite you to experience the solar eclipse and join in a social gathering — on WordPress, Facebook, Twitter — and use the hashtag #pathoftotality … I’ll re-blog and re-tweet everything I see.

No special glasses required… unless the poetry is so bad that blackout glasses are required… but I would not bet on that…

Monday, August 21st. Whadda ya say?

Looking to the ground on an overcast full moon evening and seeing the sky

Taken with NightCap Pro

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.

From sensing

our own growth relies on support to sensing
heights

and a path we create by ascending.

Thunder moon song [ #fullmoonsocial ]

Taken with NightCap Pro

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.