on the sea of tranquility 1966-2002
© 2003 by PJ Nights

The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right
S. Plath

other times and places
it might be a lady, a fleeing rabbit
or Kerouacís moon
with a catís mustache

but as a child I believe
what Iíve been told -

††††††††††††††††††††the moon is a man

close enough to touch
who watches over me
sweeps shadows

from creepy corners of my room
exposes hobgoblins as baby dolls
in pinafores

~

La lune ne garde aucune rancune
T.S. Eliot

pristine and clean
a gold coin face in relief
or a balloon filled
with ee cummingís pretty people
flying from a city Oz-like and green

on tv, they interview
an old man born a slave
just over a hundred years before
who canít believe

a rocket that big could ever
hang off the hook of the moon --
on that little crescent in the sky

††††††††††††††††††††††how could it?

each time we fill up the station wagon
we get a cardboard lunar module
I put one together with small fingers
and soon I know

the moon isnít something to be caught
and put in a back pocket
not even with it here
in my living room

on black-and-white tv
the men on the moon so small
it must be a million miles away

~

God is fired! / Do I need the moon to remain free?
T. Berrigan

yes! the moon
(to hold our footprints
for millennia)

and the unveiling of galaxies
clockworks and happenstance
independent of man and his gods

which free me
to turn my own spirals
bring the moon close to heart again

I see the kiss of humankind
in a sea of tranquility
my daughter raises her arms
to the round, familiar face

†††††lift me up, Mommy, so I can touch it

~

I'd live on the Moon / if the commute / were a little less
E. Dorn

I can imagine
nothing more beautiful
than earth-rise above moondust
moon men and maidens in my stories
marvel at blue and white perfection

†††††††††††††††made possible by distance


Animus Spring '03


Moon by Alphonse Mucha