Poem Moons
| Under the harvest moon, When the soft silver Drips shimmering Over the garden nights, Death, the gray mocker, Comes and whispers to you As a beautiful friend Who remembers. Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With a thousand memories, And asks you Beautiful, unanswerable questions. (Carl Sandburg)
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 8" x 2" x 2"
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All my
friends viewing the moon – an ugly bunch Clouds appear and bring to men a chance to rest from looking at the moon. (Basho) |
| crossing the river taking a leak… summer moon Left behind by the thief the moon in the window. (Issa) |
 3" x 2 1/2" x 2 3/4" collection of karla and James Zelewski
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 7" x 8" x 5 1/8"
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luminous
tendril of celestial wish (whying diminutive bright deathlessness to these my not themselves believing eyes adventuring, enormous nowhere from) querying affirmation; virginal immediacy of precision:more and perfectly more most ethereal silence through twilight's mystery made flesh- dreamslender exquisite white firstful flame -new moon!as(by the miracle of your sweet innocence refuted)clumsy some dull cowardice called a world vanishes, teach disappearing also me the keen illimitable secret of begin (e.e.cummings) |
