I’ve been enamored with the moon lately. Every day where I wait for the bus that takes me to yoga at stupid o’clock, which is (in)conveniently located atop a really steep hill, I have a perfect view of the moon, unobscured by urban props. I’ve been watching it shrink into blackness the last few weeks and composing odes. Some of these aren’t haiku, but bastard versions of haiku, which seemed somehow fitting too.
The Full Moon’s opposite
is not “empty” but New.
I seek you in its shadows.
________
I want you like the
sun wants to own a piece
of the nighttime sky.
________
My Cinderella,
let me keep you past curfew
a little longer.
________
“Impossible” is
just a word. You can destroy
books, but not stories.
________
It’s not the distance, love.
It’s wings, windows, worlds
begging to be opened.
________
Crescent sliver of moon.
Sometimes you smile and the
world smiles back at you.
________
I’m no virgin, but
you are the first–the only–
to stifle this howl.
________
Before you became
the moon, you were the wind. You
touch me other ways now.
________
Mi sucia,
gracias por mostrarme
un mundo sin fin.
________
really great. love the one about the sun and the nighttime sky.
i love this series as i love the moon. mysterious, translucent but opaque, nostalgic. i really love the lines about being able to destroy books, not stories, a lot.