Sunday, December 26, 2010

Between The Fish & The Moon

Photo by Carl Bernard Schwartz, Sacramento

—Carol Louise Moon, Sacramento

A large green lung perched
on tree bark tells a story
likened to a fairy tale.

A dog sleeps in the sand
next to several ladders. A tree
grows a beard 9 feet long.
Twelve British soldiers with
twelve cracked shields stand by,
with twelve empty pyxie cups.

Manna from heaven, in time
to be eaten Christmas morning:
raindeer moss.


—Carol Louise Moon

Startled by a rainbow barn owl
She almost lost grip of
Splintered rafters in the old
Storm-worn barn. Knowing that
Shrieking doesn’t help, Carol Louise
Simply groaned a cow-lowing groan and
Stared down the owl until sunrise.

Carol Louise Moon: Self-Portrait


—Carol Louise Moon

And the two pigs ran to their brother’s house…
And what do you think happened next?
There’s the brick house. Where’s the wolf?
Let’s turn the page. Oh, the page is missing.
Well, you tell me. What happens next?

Let’s start another story. This one looks
good. What happens here? The duck waddles
across the grass. And, what happens next?

Do you want to turn the page?
Look a horse. Where’s the rider?
What do you think happens next?
…a beautiful black horse with reins.

So…what happens next? Let’s turn the
page. Okay, I’ll turn the page. Let’s see
what happens next.


—Carol Louise Moon

My eyes droop a shadow
into a curious sunbeam
on this vacant kitchen floor.
My sigh is unrecognizable to you,
as is this new place to me.
I yawn to shut my ears. Have all
the hours stretched out long
since leaving yard and house?

The smell of onion and parsley
has not yet descended.
Where is the gravy of your
sweet conversation? the salt
of your command? …why
have all the cats forsaken us?

This cold floor is not the retirement
of which you often speak in quick yaps.
Work, you say, is where you must be.
I say, this loneliness of work
does not work for me.

Lying motionless waiting to play—
I suppose I practice
playing dead.



in his dementia looks down,
and seeing the tiny carpet people below,
declares that they are all too busy to notice
his face looming large above them.

Not an elephant in the room, but rather a
flaky-skinned cherub with large green eyes,
I name him “All-My-Own-and-Beyond.”

Later in the dreary afternoon, after he has
rolled himself off his couch, I cover him
with a tapestry of Christmas elves and
leave him nestled among the many tiny
carpet people.

—Carol Louise Moon


—Photo and Poem by
Ronald Edwin Lane, Weimar

See how they gleam
Strand after strand
White, red … blue and green
Diamonds are sparkling
Millions of di-a-monds
Trillions of di-a-monds
Lined up in skeins
Formed into threads
Balanced on blades
Made into Necklaces
Lining the webs

Ting, tong, ting, tong
That is their song

Ring ding-a-ling
Diamonds are fa-all-ing
They’re everywhere
Hung in the air
Touched by the sun
Brushed by the light
Ring ding-a-ling
The source of life
Diamonds sing

A very, very precious element
A very, very precious element

See how they gleam
See how slip
See how they drip
Diamonds are fa-all-ing
Diamonds in rivulets
Diamonds in streams
Oceans of di-a-monds
Diamonds are everywhere
Ting, tong, ting, tong
Diamonds in the air

A very, very precious element
A very, very precious element

Clouds of di-a-monds
See how they gleam
Touched by the sun
Ring ding-a-ling
See how they rain
See how they snow
Ting, tong, ting, tong

Behold the diamond rainbows
Behold the diamond rainbows

Ting ting-a-ling
Ring ding-a-ling
See them gleam


Today's LittleNip: 

We are the night ocean filled
with glints of light. We are the space
between the fish and the moon,
while we sit here together.

—Rumi (trans. by Coleman Barks)



Photo by Bob Dreizler, Sacramento
(Yes, that's Swiss chard)