—Poetry and Photos by Carol Louise Moon, Placerville, CA
HER BELOVED
The garden of the princess is revealed.
Beneath a cloudy sky all is gained and
nothing lost. Princess Shikishi, third
daughter of Emperor Go-Shiragawa
says of spring, in virgin voice, “The
moon bares the garden.” Little stones
encircle the cherry tree which is her
Beloved. Having known the princess
and pecked seeds at her feet, the
yellow bird sits on her head listening
to cherry blossoms.
blossoms and bird song
vibrations of white moonlight
pink snowflakes abound
The garden of the princess is revealed.
Beneath a cloudy sky all is gained and
nothing lost. Princess Shikishi, third
daughter of Emperor Go-Shiragawa
says of spring, in virgin voice, “The
moon bares the garden.” Little stones
encircle the cherry tree which is her
Beloved. Having known the princess
and pecked seeds at her feet, the
yellow bird sits on her head listening
to cherry blossoms.
blossoms and bird song
vibrations of white moonlight
pink snowflakes abound
WE ARE LOOKING OUT
In a mighty zeppelin,
a honey-colored bird—
the two of us went
vacationing.
Green hills, blue skies,
red flares, purple regrets,
ravens on the horizon.
We are looking out
for the children,
rhinos in their bath tubs
who have left
living room carpets,
carpet crumbs and
carpet bugs.
From where we float
we hear the distant tune
of a spider’s violin.
(prev. pub. in Convergence Online, 2015)
A VERY SHORT NOVEL
Myself a bit sloppy, I withheld
critique on his attire as the
evening café dinner dragged on.
The conversation, at best,
smacked of some radical nuance,
though I don’t know how relevant.
Suddenly, I had an inkling of some
predetermined motive my date
possibly had in mind. So, to salvage
my time and dignity I added up my
cost of the meal and headed for
the cash register.
Passing a small Buddha by the back
door, I repeated some hippy phrases
from the ‘70s, then exited the café.
By lamplight I walked home to the
safety of my cozy town flat.
My date? Oh, I don’t know.
He seemed a bit dysfunctional in
a charming sort of way. By week’s
end I had changed my phone
number.
GOING OFF HALF-COCKED
After The Portioned Air,
Artwork by Joyce Odam
This boat has nowhere to go
with its sails only half-full of
portioned air—nowhere,
but back to the harbor
where great blubbering seals
with large red mouths
gaping with sharp teeth
will greet us under a red sun.
Yet, here we go again
half-full of hope, having failed
on all our promises, the horizon
being too far away, our launch
plans previously unregistered
with the Harbor Master.
SOUNDS OF A NIGHT DREAM
The midnight train chuffs
and puffs its way through my
dream, wailing its wail of
anxiety. The engine now leaves
the tracks and lodges itself atop
the great sycamore, a long-
standing landmark near the old
pottery shop. Smoke dances
from the treetop into tingling
night air. Broken boxcars
drape themselves over
splintered fences, crushing the
canvas tents of local homeless,
sending wild old men running
to escape catastrophe. The
caboose lies bleeding in a ditch
off to the side, as steel-gray
clouds scoot across the face
of a full August moon.
The midnight train chuffs
and puffs its way through my
dream, wailing its wail of
anxiety. The engine now leaves
the tracks and lodges itself atop
the great sycamore, a long-
standing landmark near the old
pottery shop. Smoke dances
from the treetop into tingling
night air. Broken boxcars
drape themselves over
splintered fences, crushing the
canvas tents of local homeless,
sending wild old men running
to escape catastrophe. The
caboose lies bleeding in a ditch
off to the side, as steel-gray
clouds scoot across the face
of a full August moon.
SHIMMERING COMET
A line from “After a Death”,
Poem by Tomas Tranströmer
Once there was a shock
at the death of a country—
death of a great number of
its citizens, victims of a virus
that left behind a long
haul of destruction. But
these days even with an
air of denial, we perceive a
shimmering comet tail—
like the death of a dying star
too far away to elicit concern,
citizens too deaf of hear the alarm.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
The lamp once out
A line from “After a Death”,
Poem by Tomas Tranströmer
Once there was a shock
at the death of a country—
death of a great number of
its citizens, victims of a virus
that left behind a long
haul of destruction. But
these days even with an
air of denial, we perceive a
shimmering comet tail—
like the death of a dying star
too far away to elicit concern,
citizens too deaf of hear the alarm.
____________________
Today’s LittleNip:
The lamp once out
Cool stars enter
The window frame.
* * *
Plum flower temple:
Voices rise
From the foothills.
* * *
The crow has flown away:
Swaying in the evening sun,
A leafless tree.
* * *
Is the Muse
A phantom that appears
On a dark and hazy night?
—Natsume Sōseki (1867-1916)
____________________
Carol Louise Moon has joined us in the Kitchen this morning, bringing tales of princesses and train wrecks and rhinos in the bathtub, and we thank her for today’s flights of fancy!
On a dark and hazy night?
—Natsume Sōseki (1867-1916)
____________________
Carol Louise Moon has joined us in the Kitchen this morning, bringing tales of princesses and train wrecks and rhinos in the bathtub, and we thank her for today’s flights of fancy!
To see Joyce Odam's The Portioned Air, go to medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/2021/07/sorrows-in-stone.html and scroll down.
____________________
—Medusa
—Public Domain Photo
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
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