I gazed upon Lee Ka-sing's Full Moon photograph--the moon looking like an old Camenbert cheese or a cracked shield once belonging to Ghengis Khan--and then, as if I had contracted a dose of lunacy--I began writing moon haiku. I wrote 25 of them, Here are eleven of them:
lightbulb moon
hangs high above
my porcelain bath
soft milk pools
on the dry earth
drawn from the udder moon
old dustrag moon
getting into the corners
shaken out over the oceans
Wrinkled orange moons
get snagged in rivers
commingling with perch and trout
It snowed all night
the backyard
is deep with moons
There’s leftover moon
in the fridge
beside the bottle of milk
There was Cold Moon Soup
with snowballs and celery
and curls of bitter melon
It snowed all day and night
I stood high on the snow
leaning my shovel against the moon
Write on a blackboard
with a stick of moon
What cold powdery words!
The moon-light
on my bedside table
feeds me ivory dreams
Here’s a box
of moon tissues
dry your tears forever
