Saturday, April 22, 2006

To Rein the Name in Vain

The moon is just a metaphor.
The moon is not a Muse.
Just a false fusion of earth and sun.
The moon was once from here (where most of it still stays) and hence it is no coincidence that in Greek it was menos which in Latin became "less" because we minused that moon. And that luna the Romans went for instead? It comes from the Proto-Indo-European leu, "to divide, separate, cut." It stands simply in lieu of.
Its light is only a dim reflection of the sun which our earth reflects better and deeper into the cosmos than the moon does.
It is therefore neither of what it flaunts to be. Neither brilliant star nor vibrant earth.
An illusion as dilusion of both.
It is barren on the moon.

So what gives with the moon?
Instead would you please wake up early with me?
We can meet the UPS men at Dunkin Donuts hours before the first commuter awakes.
The rest of these people have been wrong before, remember: the tulips, the alchemists, and the Muslims? I tell you they're sleeping too late. These people are lazy, so why are they getting up early to work?
Because they're not! They're sleeping in! They've woken up too late nearly every day of their lives. Let's reserve sleeping until 7:30 for our slow and lazy Sundays. Better movies on the tv for old people at that hour anyhow.

Get up earlier with me, Laura.
In the sheets while the sun rises like the rest of the rooers after a long night with the moon, but we'll be the first at the beach with the conchs and kingfishers and back into the sheets for a break by the time they wake.
I'll be a dolphin this morning, lunch is a distant debate away.
The critters creep while the people sleep and they avert our eyes to where we'd n'er otherwise peep.
Hey Eamon, me and Laura will already have our first round in us by the time you meet us for coffee. We should have a few songs by then too. And your face will look poofy with sleep, booze, and moon. Ha ha fucking moon face!
And we met this old lady collecting things.
And we saw this old man walking with a stick in the sand and a kid who likes to sniff and his curious sister who didn't even make fun of him for it.
We lounged and roamed while we couldn't look directly at the sun like you can look at your moon. The reflection off the clay bricks of the esplanade was bright enough to drive same said notion home. And you shoulda seen the smile on Laura's brown and oiled face after my eyes finally refocused from the sun dots bouncing around my corneas. She claims I was looking at her for a solid minute before I realized it was her and then I only get a glimpse of that thing for a second before she was in too close for me to see nuthin'.
So Laura disappeared to do her thing for a few hours, right, but I bumped into her a bunch of times on her thing and I never bumped into you, Eamon. C'mon, I wanna grab a bite with you and Siobhan at some point but Laura and I have already amassed too much to discuss out on our things and so I think we'll need to sit it alone. Is it cool if we meet you at the bonfire afterwards? You could serenade us to sleep with your queer Irish folk songs
(let it go already, we've made it to the beach, and we are not slaves of the ages).

Unless it's a full moon, a half moon, or a moon reflecting as a person.

1 comment:

Pen In Mouth Equals Ink Spit said...

Hey Chris, When was your next book coming out? Ive been checking FIFTHPLANETPRESS everyday for months and no update. Just wondering, because I have read White pigeons about three times since I got it...and, well I want something new...har har har