Total Pageviews

Thursday, August 2, 2012

I have a relationship with the moon...


Lying in the back seat of the car. Watching the moon stand still while the rest of the scenery rushed by.

Other Night Lights

My dad (who always carried me in
 from the car even if I was fake-sleeping)
 and me on a road trip to Cali.

Driving highways late
at night sitting low in the back
seat. The slow arc of a spot-
light in the sky. Searching
for something really important – 
alien life or missing children. I didn't realize for
years that it might be prosaic. A huge
sale at a used car lot or the opening
of a new supermarket. Really, it was about
the beam slicing like a light saber
in slo mo. Me low in the back
seat, imagining infinity.


It is a hippie infestation...
When I was a teenager my friends and I held Full Moon Festivals. As a result the moon became our communion, our gathering point. We were a family; we frolicked, we watched the moon rise and set. Often we would still be there at dawn. I lived at the edge of the Puget Sound. The connection between the moon and the tides is science at its most magical.  Our low-lying driveway would flood with the highest of the tides. I cannot tell you how many hours I spent - happy, angry, thoughtful - at the beach.


I am going to the water
don’t follow me.

Lifting the hatch and riding
the current, you might see the other
side of madness – fishes and loaves
and crystalline shards of goblets ground
between our teeth melting
to slink between my toes. Where
they came from.

I am going to the water don’t
follow me.

In the foam my toes feel the earth
move beneath me standing at
the center of stillness. All of the turns
I have ever taken are putty
in foreign hands. Tiny sillicates drift
glistening from side to side, looking
for home. But not homing. What you
think I might be I have never been.

Through every ripple I will
hold you. I am going
to the water
do not follow me.


My relationship with the moon has become complicated, as is true for most things in adult life. Now that I live in a city I sometimes go months without noticing the moon. When we lived in New Mexico the moon was very present. The moon is both the upsurge of passion and the constancy of the tides. In this month of the blue moon - I want to call forth the passion.


Stand with me in this tilting lot
wet black cement of the just rained.
The sky is orange to the east and
deep purple to the west. Look up
at the trees and wires filled
with mewling Grackles. Barbed
wire against the darkening sky. The air
chill and damp; I wrap

The way the dark birds move together
squid ink sprayed across
the water. And the sound – Alien
earthy whispered screams.

We won’t go inside for ice cream. We
shouldn’t be placated by creamy sweetness. Stand here
with me. Rub the rosemary between your fingers. Look
back over your shoulder. It is just enough to be dangerous.


  1. I lOve the last poem.

    For the past decade, I haven't menstruated more than three or four times. Pregnant, nursing, pregnant, nursing, then the IUD. This year it ran out of time, my husband had a vasectomy, and I started to bleed again. I keep meaning to pay attention to the moon and see, in the few years I left to menstruate, if I can establish a relationship between the moon and my womb.

    It's a full moon tonight - a good night to begin.

  2. A great night to begin! I am interested to hear about your observations. I am intrigued by the idea that women have 'tides'.

  3. Strong work; Incantation ROCKS.
    -James Lee Jobe