7 posts tagged “moon”

Evening Walk

Blear-eyed glass windows

stare from buildings

At the cross-ways, shrines

of domestic gods

in the shop-windows:

vacuums, bathtubs

and even dolls,

one of which is a boxer

fists raised .

Night rises in the East

a sheet of iron

up from the steel forge

A man pale as the moon

and as cratered

lurches towards me

as he struggles to

hold his liquor

which has sufficiently numbed

the skin he wears

In the puddle at my feet

the moon is reflected

as a perfect oval

a real zero

L.Simpson, 6/3/2009, Seattle

Spring Communion

I would dress myself in sundown

pallid peach skin

blue mountain somnolence

evening phlox's vascular purple

I would swallow Augustus tulips

sacred hearts in my

ribcage-cupboard

tiny clots of light

When I dream

I float up in variegated shift

into the suburban light indigo

over street lamp halos

I open my mouth like a trout

to take in the moon

the bone meal bread

of a deceased god

baked by his wife

in heaven's wave-tossed galley

Simpson, 4/30/2009 Seattle

Spring Communion

I would wrap myself in the pallid peach

of the sundown's skin

the blue somnolence of the mountains

also the deepest purple of evening phlox

veins within the body

lastly a communion of the flames of Augustus tulips

sacred hearts in my ribcage-cupboard

Later when I dream

the moon is semi-circle gibbous

I float up in my variegated shift

into the indigo suburban half-witted light

over the halos of street lamps

I open my mouth like a trout

to take in the moon

which tastes nothing like cheese

more like bread

made from the bone meal

of a deceased god

by his wife

in heaven's wave-tossed galley

L. Simpson, 4/30/2009 Seattle

The Toilet Bowl Man Wants To Sleep

(based on the Ti-D-Bol Man)

The bowl of his smooth white world

is a round-lipped bell krater

The sea is azure, cerulean

with hints of andradite garnet

The water is sometimes blue as a dead-man's eyes

His boat rushes round in spirals

but never goes down

to the place of shades and ferment

He fell in love with the moon

round as fresh figs

tan and glowing with a fragrance of olives

He desired to sleep

He hoped she would 

scoop him into her palm

rescue him from the bowl

“My world is too small

too clean

too blue

to hold my ragged red

thoughts”

he cried

Lucy Simpson, Seattle, 2/18/2009

Take out the heart of the dead bird and swallow it whole, and every morning early, when you get up, you will find a gold piece under your pillow." Donkey Cabbages, Grimm, Jacob and Wilhelm. Household Tales. Margaret Hunt, translator. London: George Bell, 1884, 1892. 2 volumes.

the bird heart

the old woman cursed you

the wheel of bird heart

turns and burns inside

each night, the moon

spills out your mouth

it chokes you

your hand, cold lye

places the coin under the pillow

usurper's right

inside all flutters

in dismay

in ribcage

a warbling comes

when you try to woo

a young woman

you wrap yourself in your cloak

wishing to be elsewhere

anywhere, but in the room

with the laughing woman

Lucy Simpson

Seattle

The Bird Tree


Originally uploaded by luciditywalking

Night Divers on the Ocean

To rock upon the night ocean

The night divers and me in the ship

The moon, a work of scrimshaw shines

The palest eye seen

A dragon's pearl-orb tossed among the stars

On the rocks, a seal barks low and deep

bass to the thrum of the boat's whine

below lights tickle the waters

and a mystery is hidden from me

In the warm night below

it will be as if my mother is swaying me

as I drift off deeper

still deeper below the covers

Lucy Simpson, Seattle, 12/2008