Perhaps because our solitary moon changes all the time, wearily waxing and waning, the moon, for me, is always plural--as it seems to be as well for Lee Ka-sing. I write a lot of haiku and direct them at the moon, the moons. Who has not? Here are a few Mixed Moon haiku:
lightbulb moon
hangs high above
my porcelain bath
and
rough moon bumping
on a sled
over the stony night
and
soft milk pools
on the dry earth
drawn from the udder moon
Last night I gazed at Ka-sing's Ferris Wheel photograph and then, while I was sleeping, I apparently dreamed this:
two moons
on a Ferris Wheel
afraid of going too low
which was followed shortly thereafter by this bit of silliness:
I gave her moon pearls
"Are they real?" she asked
"or cultured?"
Here, finally, is a late-night haiku moon snack:
There’s leftover moon
in the fridge
beside the bottle of milk
