Marlin Figgins
Marlin Figgins is a Midwesterner, writer, mathematician, and college student. Mostly, he’s just curious and always excited to see the beautiful. He’s looking forward to encountering the unfamiliar and all-too-close-to-home both in his experiences and with his words!
Twitter: @marlinfiggins
Instagram: @marlinifignini
Blog/Site: http://marlinfiggins.wordpress.com/
Twitter: @marlinfiggins
Instagram: @marlinifignini
Blog/Site: http://marlinfiggins.wordpress.com/
"Self-Portrait with Radio & Moon."
May the tender aspects of me finally refuse to dance,
so that they may know the earth's stillness as it turns.
Today, I didn't look into the moon. Not even once.
Not even in passing; it was to be a super moon.
The radio said it twice:
[It's the closest it can be.
We've ought to tie it
down
& keep it so.]
but I never heard those words.
They've announced the next date for this sort
of thing
& I wonder if Heaven's the same way:
broken habits, planned stillness, [lonely men
with pockets for the sky
& its debris].
They'll be there, at least three,
in the next two months.
I wonder how many we'll get to see;
The last is so close, stalking from
somewhere. I don't know. I don't know where
it is or why it's coming. I thought it was in the
crow's eye, but I'm told that's milk. There's a
medical term for it I don't know. What if we
root too deep? I've heard the broadcasts.
I've just gazed up into the night--
[My eyes are clouding;
the rope's burnt raw; the moon'll
be super in the coming days,
or forever but never again.]
May the tender aspects of me finally refuse to dance,
so that they may know the earth's stillness as it turns.
Today, I didn't look into the moon. Not even once.
Not even in passing; it was to be a super moon.
The radio said it twice:
[It's the closest it can be.
We've ought to tie it
down
& keep it so.]
but I never heard those words.
They've announced the next date for this sort
of thing
& I wonder if Heaven's the same way:
broken habits, planned stillness, [lonely men
with pockets for the sky
& its debris].
They'll be there, at least three,
in the next two months.
I wonder how many we'll get to see;
The last is so close, stalking from
somewhere. I don't know. I don't know where
it is or why it's coming. I thought it was in the
crow's eye, but I'm told that's milk. There's a
medical term for it I don't know. What if we
root too deep? I've heard the broadcasts.
I've just gazed up into the night--
[My eyes are clouding;
the rope's burnt raw; the moon'll
be super in the coming days,
or forever but never again.]