when i was little i used to think there was a man in the moon
i used to press my face against the window
until my breath would fog up the glass
i would wipe it away again and again
when i looked at the man in the moon
i would wonder if he felt lonely
or if he liked to be up there
being looked at
i look at the moon in the same way now
i feel like a child sometimes
craters for your eyes
and nose and mouth
you are my moon man
I like this poem a lot. I feel very connected to the narrator
ReplyDelete"i feel like a child sometimes
ReplyDeletecraters for your eyes
and nose and mouth
you are my moon man"
: /) ,
I just remembered last part of this (from laurie anderson, End of the moon):
ReplyDelete"And I was in the middle of this long conversation with a friend and she said "Who taught you what beauty is?" and I didn't know what to say... and what is beauty anyway? Something enormous and beyond reason? Or super new and glamorous, or heavy, sleek, deep and complicated. Maybe more like just a single moment. The question kept going beyond me, becoming more and more removed. Like off-off-off-off Broadway. Or sex that's so x-rated it's xxxxx x-rated. What Tom Waits calls people who are so incredibly naked that they actually have no skin."
--
(love these things you girls write! )
well, that comment was actually after reading # 58!
ReplyDelete