Fantasy Drift to the Moon
I lunge through a wall
of trees. Dreaming, I float
to moonscape. I marvel
at the large blue earth
& I am suddenly an atom,
a speck of lunar
sand. I recall the silk
of river, scent of yellow
elder. How my muscles
insisted when I was rowdy
but scared like a slow-footed
terrapin. When I used to lug
my troubles around;
they were weighty as fat
wrapped Italian
hams. I’m reduced now
to moon grit,
a vibrant, imperceptible
hum.
I peruse the tumbled
rock, camp-out in a crater
under a comfortable granule.
I could get used to it here
& relax as the earth spins
far below, no worries in sight.
No control, I’m swept back,
beginning the dream’s end.
I morph to jellyfish & sea
bream. I backstroke home,
heavy as a continent.
I wake on the wide
rim of a tuba, returning
to my body’s subatomic
keening. I toss off the sweat-
soaked twist of sheets,
naked & newly awakened.
16 thoughts on "Fantasy Drift to the Moon"
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Hey, that is working out really well.
This is good stuff.
Love this fantasy drift. Moon poems after the moon landing. Love how your Daliesque/Chagall-like poem turns moon poems upside down: the way the speaker breaks up into moon grit feels the opposite of, say, “The Moonlit Night (Du Fu, translated by Stanton Hager).
Although “I could get used to it” seems far afield of Du Fu, “my body’s subatomic // keening” is something like Du Fu’s longing.
Tonight, above Fu-chou, stark bright the moon;
At your bedroom window, you gaze at it alone.
Faraway, I ache for our little ones, too young
To recall Ch’ang-an or understand why I’m not at home.
I can smell your fragrant hair damped by mist,
See your jade-white arms chilled by moonlight.
Oh, when will we lean again on the same window,
Under the same radiance, all traces of our tears dried?
I love the Du Fu reference! A little 2024 update. I also like the mentioning Chagall, a favorite painter.
turtle, ham, and sand!
like dr. seuss and mothergoose
dropped acid before a one night stand!
didn’t want it to end.
They don’t call me an old hippie for nothing. Thanks for listening to my speck of moon dust.
the only thing I
wanted to do this morning
was read this aloud to
Jennifer
I toss off the sweat-
soaked twist of sheets,
naked & newly awakened.
the perfect place to be
I love the poem and the variety of responses it evoked!
Love:
the silk
of river, scent of yellow
elder.
backstroke home,
heavy as a continent
Delicious. Chagall would love it, as do I.
so many wild and wonderful notions, language and images.
Like Jim, I read this to Larry. He said “seems like Linda likes to think of herself as a subatomic particle.” lol Says he seems to remember something like that he heard previously.
I felt the same lines that Pam did, very mystical ride! Thx for sharing!
sounds like being born, again
What you do here is so clean and “right,” with the line breaks and word choices–all one could wish for in a poem that let’s us in as much as it hides!
Love the juxtaposition of these surprising similes. I love dream poems for the freedom they give us to be unabashedly lyrical.
melting into inconsequential magnificence with mention of many unlikely ancestors, you killed me