Here, the ocean wears all its mirrors on its back, they bring...
Here, the ocean wears all its mirrors on its back, they bring the news that comes in the dream, and tonight, the full moon will be reflected and repeated there, millions of moons bouncing back off millions of mirrors. All the old Aprils are in this April, the well-worn egg-shaped orbit swings us back to budding fizz on trees, to hungry suckling tongues, to the blue dusk blush, everything stirring and sticky with renewal. We can’t stare at the sun. It will char our retinas and take our sight. The moon won’t burn, even at its brightest, we can look and look, the way we look at the faces in dreams, which reflect what we bring, with darkness and emptiness behind them. Tonight, step into the milk-blue dim, get softened in the mothlight, and feel the moon pull on all your fluids and juices.
For the Paris Review, I’m writing a 12-part series tied to each month’s full moon. “The Moon in Full” starts today, with the Pink Moon, which rises tonight.
[Painting: Edvard Munch, Måneskinn (Moonlight), 1895]
