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  • Moon Talk by Wade Stevenson Book Preview

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    Geoffrey Gatza
    255 vizualizări20 pagini
    The title of this book conjures the phrase “pillow talk”, the whispered secrets of lovers. It unfolds in slim, careful stanzas and draws on associations with the moon to convey romantic love. “Nude nothing of my whiteness / How you tremble / When I almost touch you.” When the lovers depart, beauty and terror converge in a particularly haunting image: “The moon a phantom ship in flames / Without anchor, without time.” A worthy ode that discovers a musing, intense lexicon…magic.” —Kirkus Reviews “Moon Talk” provides a powerful example of form, usage, poetic license, and interactions between poet/writer and audience. By taking one (long) poem and deconstructing it line by line, “Moon Talk” achieves what few other literary studies provide: a thorough, in-depth analysis of the poet’s toolbox. “Moon Talk” is especially recommended for poets, students and classrooms studying creative writing and the evolution of meaningful free verse. — D. Donovan, Senior Editor, the Midwest Book Review “What a remarkable little book!” — Donna White, Director, Brighton Place Library “Moon Talk” is a lyrical rumination on the moon as myth and symbol. The poems and accompanying metatext bring the reader on a contemplative walk through the lunar cycle. Moon Talk is symphonic in scope and unique in its genre.” —Geoffrey Gatza, author of “Apollo” and “The House of Forgetting” William Carlos Williams wrote it is always proper to talk about the moon. Rite about the moon: “Moon Talk” by Wade Stevenson, a hypnotic tide rocks within the waves of this book, the power of the tide, forces push and pull throughout “Moon Talk”, the talk that rocks and swaddles the ear with heart. —Michael Basinski, Curator, The Poetry Collection, The University of Buffalo “Moon Talk” is a sweeping poem of love and loss, desire and consummation, of androgynous force and mystical identity. Erotic, transformative, mythic, corporeal, “Moon Talk” concedes no boundaries between the poet, the moon, and his lover.” —Bookscover2cover.com In Wade Stevenson’s “Moon Talk”, astronomy becomes a point of entry to compelling questions about romantic relationships. Even when separated by the entirety of the night sky is it possible to discern subject from object? Should love be a matter of distance or proximity? When does separation allow the light of the stars to shine? As Stevenson teases out possible answers to these questions, he offers us a graceful matching of form and content. His most subtle stylistic choices illuminate the ambitious and unflinching discussions that take place within this exciting collection —Kristina Marie Darling, author of “Scorched Altar: Selected Poems & Stories 200-2014.” “Moon Talk”: it made me think about the poets during the medieval ages when they fell in love with their lady, during the days of chivalry. I also thought about the Petrarchan sonnet and how the subject was mostly about love. Then I read the metatext again and then the poem and started my own deconstruction of the poem. (I also read through the quotes.) I thought what was most interesting about the metatext was the poet, through the deconstruction, talked to his audience through the poet’s persona, almost like a double persona. By the time I finished reading “Moon Talk” a few times, I felt as if the subject and object had become one, that his lover had become absorbed into the poet, not in a sexual way, but he had become whole because of the experience of his losing her. He had gained himself. A lyrical and elegiac work of art. —Sandra Squire Fluck, author of “Evening Muse” For centuries the moon has captured our imagination, influenced our bodies, and penetrated our dreams in all her evanescent, full and mysterious glory. “Moon Talk” by Wade Stevenson, a metaphorical tribute to the golden glowing orb, dances like the moon herself between the dark and light, the fixed and fungible, a chiaroscuro of our favorite heavenly body.

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    The title of this book conjures the phrase “pillow talk”, the whispered secrets of lovers. It unfolds in slim, careful stanzas and draws on associations with the moon to convey romantic love. “Nude nothing of my whiteness / How you tremble / When I almost touch you.” When the lovers depart, beauty and terror converge in a particularly haunting image: “The moon a phantom ship in flames / Without anchor, without time.” A worthy ode that discovers a musing, intense lexicon…magic.” —Kirkus Reviews “Moon Talk” provides a powerful example of form, usage, poetic license, and interactions between poet/writer and audience. By taking one (long) poem and deconstructing it line by line, “Moon Talk” achieves what few other literary studies provide: a thorough, in-depth analysis of the poet’s toolbox. “Moon Talk” is especially recommended for poets, students and classrooms studying creative writing and the evolution of meaningful free verse. — D. Donovan, Senior Editor, the Midwest Book Review “What a remarkable little book!” — Donna White, Director, Brighton Place Library “Moon Talk” is a lyrical rumination on the moon as myth and symbol. The poems and accompanying metatext bring the reader on a contemplative walk through the lunar cycle. Moon Talk is symphonic in scope and unique in its genre.” —Geoffrey Gatza, author of “Apollo” and “The House of Forgetting” William Carlos Williams wrote it is always proper to talk about the moon. Rite about the moon: “Moon Talk” by Wade Stevenson, a hypnotic tide rocks within the waves of this book, the power of the tide, forces push and pull throughout “Moon Talk”, the talk that rocks and swaddles the ear with heart. —Michael Basinski, Curator, The Poetry Collection, The University of Buffalo “Moon Talk” is a sweeping poem of love and loss, desire and consummation, of androgynous force and mystical identity. Erotic, transformative, mythic, corporeal, “Moon Talk” concedes no boundaries between the poet, the moon, and his lover.” —Bookscover2cover.com In Wade Stevenson’s “Moon Talk”, astronomy becomes a point of entry to compelling questions about romantic relationships. Even when separated by the entirety of the night sky is it possible to discern subject from object? Should love be a matter of distance or proximity? When does separation allow the light of the stars to shine? As Stevenson teases out possible answers to these questions, he offers us a graceful matching of form and content. His most subtle stylistic choices illuminate the ambitious and unflinching discussions that take place within this exciting collection —Kristina Marie Darling, author of “Scorched Altar: Selected Poems & Stories 200-2014.” “Moon Talk”: it made me think about the poets during the medieval ages when they fell in love with their lady, during the days of chivalry. I also thought about the Petrarchan sonnet and how the subject was mostly about love. Then I read the metatext again and then the poem and started my own deconstruction of the poem. (I also read through the quotes.) I thought what was most interesting about the metatext was the poet, through the deconstruction, talked to his audience through the poet’s persona, almost like a double persona. By the time I finished reading “Moon Talk” a few times, I felt as if the subject and object had become one, that his lover had become absorbed into the poet, not in a sexual way, but he had become whole because of the experience of his losing her. He had gained himself. A lyrical and elegiac work of art. —Sandra Squire Fluck, author of “Evening Muse” For centuries the moon has captured our imagination, influenced our bodies, and penetrated our dreams in all her evanescent, full and mysterious glory. “Moon Talk” by Wade Stevenson, a metaphorical tribute to the golden glowing orb, dances like the moon herself between the dark and light, the fixed and fungible, a chiaroscuro of our favorite heavenly body.

    Drepturi de autor:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Descărcați ca PDF, TXT sau citiți online pe Scribd
    Indicator pentru conținut neadecvat
    255 vizualizări20 pagini

    Moon Talk by Wade Stevenson Book Preview

    Încărcat de

    Geoffrey Gatza
    The title of this book conjures the phrase “pillow talk”, the whispered secrets of lovers. It unfolds in slim, careful stanzas and draws on associations with the moon to convey romantic love. “Nude nothing of my whiteness / How you tremble / When I almost touch you.” When the lovers depart, beauty and terror converge in a particularly haunting image: “The moon a phantom ship in flames / Without anchor, without time.” A worthy ode that discovers a musing, intense lexicon…magic.” —Kirkus Reviews “Moon Talk” provides a powerful example of form, usage, poetic license, and interactions between poet/writer and audience. By taking one (long) poem and deconstructing it line by line, “Moon Talk” achieves what few other literary studies provide: a thorough, in-depth analysis of the poet’s toolbox. “Moon Talk” is especially recommended for poets, students and classrooms studying creative writing and the evolution of meaningful free verse. — D. Donovan, Senior Editor, the Midwest Book Review “What a remarkable little book!” — Donna White, Director, Brighton Place Library “Moon Talk” is a lyrical rumination on the moon as myth and symbol. The poems and accompanying metatext bring the reader on a contemplative walk through the lunar cycle. Moon Talk is symphonic in scope and unique in its genre.” —Geoffrey Gatza, author of “Apollo” and “The House of Forgetting” William Carlos Williams wrote it is always proper to talk about the moon. Rite about the moon: “Moon Talk” by Wade Stevenson, a hypnotic tide rocks within the waves of this book, the power of the tide, forces push and pull throughout “Moon Talk”, the talk that rocks and swaddles the ear with heart. —Michael Basinski, Curator, The Poetry Collection, The University of Buffalo “Moon Talk” is a sweeping poem of love and loss, desire and consummation, of androgynous force and mystical identity. Erotic, transformative, mythic, corporeal, “Moon Talk” concedes no boundaries between the poet, the moon, and his lover.” —Bookscover2cover.com In Wade Stevenson’s “Moon Talk”, astronomy becomes a point of entry to compelling questions about romantic relationships. Even when separated by the entirety of the night sky is it possible to discern subject from object? Should love be a matter of distance or proximity? When does separation allow the light of the stars to shine? As Stevenson teases out possible answers to these questions, he offers us a graceful matching of form and content. His most subtle stylistic choices illuminate the ambitious and unflinching discussions that take place within this exciting collection —Kristina Marie Darling, author of “Scorched Altar: Selected Poems & Stories 200-2014.” “Moon Talk”: it made me think about the poets during the medieval ages when they fell in love with their lady, during the days of chivalry. I also thought about the Petrarchan sonnet and how the subject was mostly about love. Then I read the metatext again and then the poem and started my own deconstruction of the poem. (I also read through the quotes.) I thought what was most interesting about the metatext was the poet, through the deconstruction, talked to his audience through the poet’s persona, almost like a double persona. By the time I finished reading “Moon Talk” a few times, I felt as if the subject and object had become one, that his lover had become absorbed into the poet, not in a sexual way, but he had become whole because of the experience of his losing her. He had gained himself. A lyrical and elegiac work of art. —Sandra Squire Fluck, author of “Evening Muse” For centuries the moon has captured our imagination, influenced our bodies, and penetrated our dreams in all her evanescent, full and mysterious glory. “Moon Talk” by Wade Stevenson, a metaphorical tribute to the golden glowing orb, dances like the moon herself between the dark and light, the fixed and fungible, a chiaroscuro of our favorite heavenly body.

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    © All Rights Reserved
    Descărcați ca PDF, TXT sau citiți online pe Scribd
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    din 20

    MOON TALK

    WADE STEVENSON

    BLAZEVOX[BOOKS]
    Buffalo, New York

    Moon Talk
    by Wade Stevenson
    Copyright 2016
    Published by BlazeVOX [books]
    All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without
    the publishers written permission, except for brief quotations in reviews.
    Printed in the United States of America
    Interior design and typesetting by Geoffrey Gatza
    Cover Art by Kris Ettinger
    Interior art: Wolf Moon Photo by Seymour H. Knox IV
    First Edition
    ISBN: 978-1-60964-248-8
    Library of Congress Control Number: 2016931161
    BlazeVOX [books]
    131 Euclid Ave
    Kenmore, NY 14217
    Editor@blazevox.org

    publisher of weird little books

    BlazeVOX [ books ]
    blazevox.org
    21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10

    BlazeVOX

    To the many memories of the moon

    Table 0f Contents

    Moon Talk ............................................................................................... 9

    A Little Talk About Moon Talk ................................................... 59

    A Few Reflections On The Moon ................................................... 93

    There is nothing you can think that is not the moon.


    Basho

    The moon is believed to have formed out of a giant


    cataclysmic collision early in the history of the solar system
    when an interplanetary interloper slammed into Earth and
    lofted a ring of debris that eventually coalesced into the
    moon.
    Journal of Science

    Moon Talk

    The moon wants me and I want the moon.


    The moon wants a horse, wants to ride
    As far as possible into the womb of the night.
    I want to gallop astride the mare of the moon.
    But moon is not me and I am not the moon,
    Yet I want to be a moon-man while the moon
    Seeks to capture me in her silver scimitar light.
    How long would it take me to reach the moon?
    How many years would it take for the moon
    To fall in love with me? I want to follow
    The moon, shadow of her in the sky
    And in the shadows of daylight as well.
    Show me the path to the moon and I will tell
    All the birds how to get there. Tonight the moon
    Is buried seven fathoms deep in coral beds
    Of the ocean. The stars point a path to the
    Fishes. The darkness swarms with light.

    11

    Fact of the matter is: both inside and out


    The moon wants me and I want the moon.
    There is no no in love. So say yes, howl
    To the sun, insects, humans, and other animals
    That either the moon and I become One
    Or nothing at all.

    12

    Is there an answer to the moon?


    To all the loves that have been lost?
    You tried to touch the moon,
    You did squeeze its ripened juices.
    Now the night rain falls and sluices,
    Lonely phantoms follow
    Unwilling to let you go.
    Eyes closed, you walk on, man walking,
    Part of a cosmic story from long ago,
    Better than lying in bed
    Curled into a solitary ball.
    Go to the ocean, watch
    The white waves crashing on the shore,
    Grab some sand, throw handfuls to the wind,
    Think of drowning yourself, of ending it all.
    Look at the moon as it sinks into the sea.
    One day, time past/future will be forgotten,
    You will be reborn, a single note of music
    Vibrating in interstellar space.

    13

    Meanwhile you suck air into your lungs,


    Unable to forget, unwilling to remember,
    You should be cuffed, arrested
    Youre moon-drunk with loss.
    Bring me the lunar dagger, let it slice
    In half this body, which once dreamed
    Of merging two into one.
    Now only an echo of love remains,
    Against the sky the profile of your face.
    This moon story is all about you.
    Its a bright myth made up of slivers
    Of what once was true.
    The only real is what you love,
    You once said. Fly higher, together
    Well climb the mountains of the moon.

    14

    But who are you? So calm, cool, distant,


    Elusively twisting away
    Like a fish in the tides of the wind.
    That who will never have a name.
    It will always be magical, mystical, lunar you.
    Loving you was never easy,
    My lovely LunaLulu,
    To whom I dedicate this lullaby.
    Who can gauge the mood of the moon?
    Yet there was always an aura, a hazy glow,
    Possible enchantment.

    15

    How is it that from so far away


    The big yellow moon,
    A shy silver quarter of moon,
    A fraction of reflected light,
    Can control the thundering
    Inhale and exhale
    Of the ever-expanding waves?

    What does the old moon know


    That words cannot tell?
    What does it matter if the moon knows or not
    If we cannot tell what the moon knows?
    Of what does the ancient moon dream
    As human beings flicker below,
    Shadows dancing behind a star screen?

    16

    The moon tonight is black and blue,


    Bruised with the reflected heat
    Of multitudinous loves that lived and died.
    The moon tonight knows only you.
    See how pale it shines as it struggles
    With all the pain/loss youve gone through.
    The four phases will always come and go,
    In the midnight garden you stroll to and fro,
    Every inch of you longing to be a
    Wolf-man or some non-human thing.
    What once you had, you broke in two.
    So you watch the wafer moon as it wavers.
    Trees beckon, you wander to the edge, wait.
    And all that moonlight spills over everything.

    17

    The witch goddess moon fell in love


    With a black stallion of no name.
    See how he plunges, his nostrils flared,
    Blood coursing in his veins,
    Into the starry shadows of her mane.
    Once upon a time the moon
    Whispered her dark secrets
    To earth lovers joined as one.
    When they heard the ancestral voice
    Their bodies quivered, glimmering
    In ocean-reflected light.
    Look how the twilight stars struggle
    To escape the net of the evening,
    How they turn, twist, writhe
    In convulsive bursts.
    A lonely fisherman watches
    From a faraway shore.
    Hello, sea of tranquility,
    Strange, shining thing
    18

    Above a revolving blue sphere


    Crossing our path in the dusk,
    Changing the motion of waves
    Into the meaning of light.
    Hello bud of fire,
    Floating on water.
    Hello crescent haunches of the moon,
    I desire you
    As the maiden of the night
    The dream of the day.
    Hello Nothing
    From Nothing,
    Debris of a cosmic collision,
    Tied to the sun and its demise.
    Child you are,
    My air of pollen, scented beams.

    19

    Hello flower of the night,


    I greet you, woman, enormous
    As the innocence of the empty moon,
    Blossoming night fruit, ripe, agleam.
    (Your name cycles as months progress:
    Wolf Moon, Hunger Moon, Crow Moon,
    Egg Moon, Planting Moon, Strawberry
    Moon, Thunder Moon, Grain Moon, Hunters
    Moon, Beaver Moon, Long Night Moon.)
    Farewell, harvest moon, orange
    Rock, stark
    In your nudity.
    After rising like a white sword
    Now the moon hides
    In golden dusk fleece,
    Crouches like a lynx with eyes of gold
    On the branches of a spreading night tree.

    20

    Or will you become a dancer moon,


    Untamed, like Isadora
    Strangled by the scarf of a silver sky?
    All the evening light at last released,
    Some of it caught
    In the shadows of your throat.
    Are you deep enough for that?
    Are you silent enough for that?
    What will you do when the white wind
    Flutters like leaves against your bare shoulders?
    Will you acknowledge the presence
    Of him, the mysterious man who moves
    In darkness, shedding light,
    Or will you waste your time dreaming
    About the wild horse you couldnt capture?
    The moon has fine, dark hair.
    The women of the night are combing it,
    Drawing it out like flax
    Between their long, slender fingers.

    21

    Nude nothing of my whiteness


    How you tremble
    When I almost touch you.
    Deep desire of my darkness
    How you revolve
    When I ask you to open.
    Poles of my darkness and whiteness,
    How you vibrate
    To the echo of my soul ache.
    Let me lay my weary head
    On the shine of your white shoulders,
    Beautiful lunar lady
    With a quiver of gold between your thighs.
    In the shadow of this life
    And of all our other lives
    Something deep will remain,
    Our hands stretched out in love,
    To that treasure you hold the key.
    Across the arc of the widening sky
    22

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