“might I walk you to the moon tonight?” and whom am I talking to? myself, that inner voice, speaking right now actually but to what audience? just the inner auditorium made for one? perhaps often right, there is ecstasy in the ordinary driving home, typical highway night has been looming sooner, as she does in fall how soon we forget, and then just accept so distraction can be a slide into the dreaming world “may I describe the moon tonight?” or more simply the sky, more a scene like flying over a silent desert, after a day of scorching infernos downward, blinds eye now resting, under the gracious umbrella of night as the lamp lens intense set the landscape can sigh as majestic purples multiply and mate, with curtains of magenta forming layers, like tourist sand in bottles the colors inhabit the boundary impregnating the horizon with splendor until full surrender, inhabits my focus is trained only on that above the horizon not the wheel in my hand, the artificial lighting, the concrete cells and paved grounds the reality that surrounds, softens as I fly above into the night I imagine laying prone, only to peer upwards now the moon, but a quicksilver-sliver, a wink, not a quarter full, just a peeking-boo a november moon as cold as thewaning light there to bear witness, through the night and I feel I can hang a hammock there from star to star under that silent tide on this ride and so I might.
notes… I found this on my desktop temp folder, forgot to post it when I wrote it back in November… so strange, these things are almost like children to me and I would have sworn I posted it… but I looked back and had not (but soooo recall the creation)… one of those I wrote driving home at night, the muse sweeps in, sweeps away the banal, plants a seed, I try to be the good farmer and raise the idea as my own… that’s all I know… does it work? I suppose you are the last word on that. Do you dream of flying off into the moon when stuck in traffic? (and should I tell people to play the song before reading the post? hmmm… I am willing to take suggestions on that one, I always thought it was obvious.. which it isn’t I guess, the rule is not always a rule, savy ?) … and your time, thoughts and likes are greatly appreciated, have something you want me to check out ? say it… I’m not a mind reader…
oh dear fair moon might I take a bite of advice for how did you appear in the middle of my day sky but I suppose you are always there with a certain-curtain pull back so how do you bare, then? the view, not ever an interloper nor a guardian at our door a lone-cold observer from shore to shore, sights from rocky atolls to fading cliffs the observances of millennia- maybe this is jealousy? I’d invite you to dinner to hear the stories of your grand tour but can not trade for that to bear the calamity that will ensue so, alas, stay where you are perhaps another lunar trip will do oh my dear fair moon our singular notion our most loyal companion. I look up, to you.
notes… the day moon always gets my eye, I call this style stop and start, like letting the words flow and then turning the faucet off suddenly, not a staccato like I do sometimes, this is deliberate to show chain of thought, or at least that is what I am going for, kind of like a fence, a smooth line and then a post… if that makes sense, if it does not, I suppose you will just move on… as always, all comments are appreciated.
So… you know, the moon, that thing, in mysterious ways can do mysterious things, some howl, not me, not this soul, but my mind does wander and wonder at it all...
(1) from pine tar to the bore forgive me my grace a bit too comfortable in my grave on shadow moon and misty tides a rider appears a delivery, a note of handwritten dour as we prophesied in this late hour for the signs all gesticulated in blood nurtured in the knowledge that the past has returned. (2) with a somewhat lazy eye climbs upward the ladder rung by rung up hazy sky for an obscure moon there on this late february night a caged celestial bubble lost in the pool cast in the night
(previously posted but now with annotations, links and such. being a bit nerdy today… sometimes more goes into a poem than I care to think about… sometimes…)
dear Miranda, (*1) but just a glimpse a fading pass (*2) for you hide and dance forever show the same face (*3) within a tempest born (*4) the scars of stars upon your form all about craters worn from drunken horde, magicians wand (*5) father Prospero’s hand, Stephano’s yard Trinculo’s joke read out on your garb your scarps take breath Verona Rupes in all the moons of this solar system our bed your light touch would save (*6) twelve minute fall and might I discover the patterns the sulci in which your lines are read, may we see you again (*7) not just a glimpse but a visit then.
I chose Miranda for a number of reasons. One is that the previous four discovered moons of Uranus were named after fairies. Miranda was the first to be named after a human (well, a character in a Shakespeare play). Besides that designation the topography of Miranda has baffled scientists with it’s seemingly unique (at least here in our Solar System) nature and formations.
Miranda was discovered by Gerard Kuiper in 1948, it was the last moon discovered in the Uranian system until Voyager 2 passed on by in 1986 (after being launched in 1973).
Like our moon, Miranda has Tidal Locking, meaning the same side (or face) always faces the planet it orbits.
Obvious reference to William Shakespeare’s The Tempest from which Miranda was granted it’s name. I was thinking of a loose association of how the planets and moon formed. There was a cosmic tempest of sorts and then the celestial bodies fell into place like their own little islands (and life on them, well, at least Earth).
The gravity on Miranda is a fraction of ours here on Earth, so even a fall from Verona Rupes (the tallest cliff known in our Solar System) would take quite some time (twelve minutes is kind of an arbitrary number I picked that could be reasonably accurate).
A reference again to Voyager 2 passing by but also that NASA has hinted at revisiting Uranus in the 2020s (you know, this new decade).
“tell me, tell me of the moon a paramour who never moves closer always always remains at a distance remains always at arm’s length”
notes… I was listening to this (Cellar Darling – Rebels) and these words popped into my head as they often do, I suppose I was playing with words, and repetition on purpose as we all tend to do the same things so often, myself included, breaking the mold I guess is a habit, one I do not have quite down, quite yet, but I endeavor the goal, I endeavor it so, so I depart in that direction even when sometimes lost…