Thursday, February 21, 2008


I walked into my room tonight and before I could flick on the light, I saw there in the dark, a round white circle of moon sitting on my bed. I moved my pillow down to the place, near the foot board, so that I could place my face in it, and stared hard at the moon until it seemed to pulse in the dark sky, with my heartbeat, I'd guess.

Once, in our living room, I recited Romeo to my older sister's Juliet - O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb," and once, my French teacher told me that his grandmother could not believe we'd ever landed on its surface.

I watched the eclipse last night, on and off, waiting for the "blood red" phase to cycle through. But I was too tired, or forgetful, or literal because it never bled, just browned at the edges a bit like a dying flower. And the shadow, the earth, moved over it's face. We printed our image on it's surface for a moment, like silhouetted hand puppets on a bedroom wall, waving hello, hello. I wuz here.


Mike S said...

I got really bummed out over that. It was a beautiful clear night, until time for the eclipse, when we were suddenly shrouded in a thick, high fog!! It cleared just after the event was over so had to see it on TV. Not quite the same. Nice writing as usual:):)

the hamster said...

i love how, in the beginning of this, the moon is "sitting on [your] bed" where you "place [your] face in it." then, at the end, the moon "just browned at the edges a bit like a dying flower".

i read all this, took a walk, came back to it and realized that what i truly love about this is how i can't tell if, in your words, the moon has shrunk down to a more manageable, obtainable size, or if you, in opposition to the grandmother, realized some truth of your own grandeur, encompassing the moon.

i love the layers in this little piece.

Deanna said...

So lovely. I saw the moon, too, just when it was dark with a tiny bright sliver on the edge, and then just when it was light with a tiny black hat.

I keep meaning to email and forgetting, but will you send me the piece of writing you mentioned last week?

Cecily said...

Hmmm, was it a red moon in Australia too? No idea, but the moon has been glorious in its fullness here the last few nights. So bright and wonderful. We had a red moon here last year, and yes, it really did go red. I was at work and kept running outside to see it, and at one point almost all of it was red (kind of a dried blood red... another dreamy line for you!).

Question: do authors realise they are putting multiple layers of meaning into a piece they write, or is it just everyone else finds extra bits the author never intended? Because I sometimes wonder with some of the poetry we studied for school if we weren't just making the whole damn thing up for the sake of filling an essay. But no... of course authors are master craftspeople and they put all that meaning in! Stop being so dull and boring Cecily!

hendricks said...

I wuz here. brilliant. punchy way to end your latest piece. it reminded me of summer camp...

Cherie said...

The moon and I are old friends. Sounds like you are one, too.

The eclipse was magical, that's for sure. We four stupidly (for we've been quite ill) wrapped blankets around our tired shoulders and went outside to view the show. Blood red, yes indeed, and a moment of memory sprang forth of another bloody moon, in another town, in another century, in a mind just awakening which wondered, "Why am I the only one who thinks this is fantastic?" while everyone else watched television and ate cookies.

Sorcerer moon.

Angela said...

so, i have three friends who are artists. um, oh, maybe only two now, i dated one and i'm still waiting to see if a friendship survives it, BUT, we were talking about meaning in their work and one of them said she was more interested in what a person brought to a piece than in dictating one specific meaning. i kinda like that. not that i don't have an underlying meaning that is non-negotiable when i write, but i like that readers bring themselves to a piece and interpret it through there own experience.

so. ya, i put layers in when i write. it's one of my favourite things about writing - layering and layering. i feel like i'm working on a 3-d puzzle when i do it, or maybe mortaring if i knew how, icing a ten layer cake! and when someone gets it, like hamster did there, and like you do when you write about how fantastic i am. clearly, you get me.