STEVE-OKEEFE

It follows me wherever I go. Mostly at night, but sometimes in the day. Even when I was walking to school, I could see its full phase catching me between the houses. Never saying a word, but always my friend. I like the moon. — Kurt O'Keefe

My moon is the reflection of the sun; bright, carrying the hopes of the world, beautiful, a guiding light to all of life. When our sun goes to rest, the moon comes to take its place, comforting us in our darkest hours. — Philemon Holmes

I'd eaten so many salt & vinegar potato chips that the roof of my mouth & my gums & lips were stinging, but that's how I stay awake on long car trips. Eating keeps me awake, & only the most addictive gas station delicacies will do. So I was fighting off sleep on the way up the mountain on these ridiculously curvy roads — I barely made it out of 2nd gear for 50 miles — & there in a break in the trees I caught sight of the moon behind a thin illuminated screen of clouds — those cold high altitude clouds you get in the winter — & it just hit me. This is the same damn moon that Julius Caesar & Cleopatra & Buster Keaton stared at. I'm practically famous just in the presence of it. — Barry Wilder

My moon is a rare moon. It is not the small, obedient grey coin that keeps its distance. My moon is magic. It boldly eats up the sky, hanging almost over head. My moon is cast in orange-red tones. It dominates the sky and thunders, “Stop and stare at me!” — Julie Mark

The difference between us is that you want to own it all And I want to own nothing.

My moon shines dimly in the dark abyss of night. Its round globe bringing light to thoughts of change and rebellion. Let the world be what it may and let the moon forever show the truth of dark alleys, political backroom decisions and the hope we all hold for a better future.

I LOVE YOU

My moon is always full. It pretends to peek and wink, but I know it is out there. A friend recently described the reason for his moon tattoo. No one was really around when he was a kid, so he just talked to the moon instead. The moon was his father/mother/friend and remains to be so. At times in my life when the audience for my life was sparse, I looked to the moon for applause for my adventures. It is still there, white and gold, glowing silently with approval, even when I probably deserve none.

It is round and yellowed, like old lace, like the faces of women in Harlem Renaissance texts. It is pockmarked, lumpy, and ponderous. It hangs full and weighted, juicy, delectable. It is salient, looking down at me, whispering, murmuring, turning my insides around.

hey moooo... n. glowing gas like one of those olde Edison-era light bulbs. don't seem solid.

chunky round ashy-grey pregnant silver pulls the tides watches me in my sleep and lights up the garden at midnight

My moon looks very close at hand. It looks like my kids to me. I can't look at the moon without thinking Jared, Thomas. My kids always notice the moon before anyone else present.

Some days it looks like Bernadette Peters, just the face, from the side with shadowed lashes. Other days like an alien fetus, umbilical cord and all with some silent prophetic message nobody gets. — Squishy

There is a moon that keeps my childhood a vivid memory. Every time I see the crescent-shaped "toenail" moon I can smell my mom's thermos of coffee and hear "My Cherie Amour." I used to love to stare at that moon while we waited for my dad to load his fishing gear in the back of the tiny Datsun truck. This is also probably why I really like coffee and Stevie Wonder.

Just after sunset it is fat to bursting, and later it is a cold coin too far away. I am always amazed that people overcome their awe long enough to divine its arc and schedule. For me it's enough to see its size and sink fat far and fat again.

The plains Indians — Lakota, Cheyenne, Arapaho, among others, described not what the moon looked like but rather the events that occurred here on Earth beneath the moon: The moon of the shedding ponies was May, the moon when the deer shed their horns was December. These descriptions apply to a period of time roughly corresponding to these months, not to individual moons, but for me, the blood moon of October 27th, 2004, will always be...

Wednesday nite, I filmed the lunar eclipse. At its most poignant moment, the brightest crescent was the artsy... beret that capped with face of Lady Luna. Her open mouth and wide eyes revealed her comic horror at the world rotating beneath her.

The moon looms far away and seems intangible, even though I know other humans have visited there. I prefer to stare at it from afar and dream about what it would be like to visit, because I think it is more spectacular and mysterious in my imagination.

My moon looks like a round soft gentle sponge, with not too many holes. It's soft & bouncy filled with craters, none of which are the same in size or shape. It's so big, I can't image the actual size, but it's a neat feeling to be alone on it.

Secondary, & not noticed most of the time. It's definitely better to watch it eclipse that the sun. Can be scary & haunting, & makes a nice scapegoat for the crazies to blame their insanity on.

My moon is a high summer moon with a whitish penumbra around it bleeding into the rest of the sky, which is blue green. The halo means that some thing is going to happen — maybe rain, maybe something else. 

The moon is a large mass that slowly sends its mass outward in white translucent light only to miss the earth relatively infinitely but hit it enough to make waves in the ocean.