The Capture of Mr. Moon — Image by Deloss McGraw
The Capture of Mr. Moon
Rocked back on his backside, not yet risen.
It’s Mr. Moon – like a thin nail paring
Or sweet slice of some pale, blue melon —
Hauled in the tumbril, his four-wheeled prison.
We jostle the curbsides as if we were starting
At a president or some famous felon.
Like moonvines outreaching your porch’s trellis
Or tall man in a child’s brass bed, he lies
With his tip and toes poked through the bars.
Not, though the snatch at us, not to repel us.
His thoughts have turned. His eyes
Glozed to mirror the farthest stars.
Reflect on himself: blue shut-in
Cool to all suns utter his drowsy ban
This cage that couldn’t even begin
To hold, shuts us outside,
Excluded from the Moon in Man.
— from W.D.’s Midnight Carnival by W.D. Snodgrass
“. . . for kenne turner with assorted extravagances”
W.D. Snodgrass (1993)
Conversations Lost
Conversations
from the past
lost
in the images
of memories
amassed
only to return
on the backs
of death
resurrected
by poets
serving only
to introduce
images
of what was
like water
returning
from a fountain’s
reservoir
only
to be reborn
again
and again
and again
— kenne
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
I’m happy to have met this great American poet almost thirty years ago. Snodgrass won a Pulitzer in Poetry (1960), membership in the National Institute of Arts and Letters (1960), Guggenheim Fellowship (1972), and in the Academy of American Poets (1973). — kenne
I like both your poem, the poem from Snodgrass, and the illustration, Kenne. Good work.