one thing I am very good at is walking. when I feel clouded or sad or confused or energized or just in need of a perspective shift - I go for a walk. I sort of have to do this every day or I will go a little stir crazy with my own thoughts. walking airs them out. and walking makes them poetry.
since having my son, my usual route is now to go down through my neighborhood about a mile, to the park with the giant trees, defunct swimming pool, tennis courts (turned pickle ball courts) and old street lamps that beg to be painted into Magriette’s universe (they also remind me of the lamp post that guides Chihiro to the good witch Zeniba’s cottage). I like to look up into the trees at the park. one evening recently, I noticed a little sliver of moon beside venus, rising as the night fell. the street lights were just coming on.
that moon looks like a little nail clipping, I thought. It reminded me that when I was probably middle school aged – I liked to latch on to my best friends arms with my nails and make little half moons in their skin. I suppose that sounds violent, but it wasn’t so aggressive as it was energetic, and a little territorial. I’d also create little half moons in my own forearm – again, it really wasn’t about harming myself or anyone, but sort of seeing an impact and having a kind of bubbling over of energy. I don’t have to tell you kids are weird like that. and I imagine it was annoying, but it always got a laugh. I was walking around the park having these memories, then thoughts about the memories – and then of course, remembering what my thoughts were at the time of being young(er) and odd(er) and (less) inhibited with my energy.
I moved on –
anyway it’s a cliche to think of the waxing or waining crescent as a nail clipping, isn’t it? hasn’t this been said in poems or songs or movies? maybe. I can’t recall exactly where I’ve seen it. sometimes cliches become cliches by common observation. english trains you to describe things frequently by using comparison - metaphor and simile are everywhere. the way we all know the sun on the ocean glitters and clouds are puffy like cotton.
and then, I stepped slightly to the side of my initial thought: a thumbnail of the moon.
I was more interested in that thought right away. I had somehow pulled the crescent out of the sky and down into my computer! transformed the enormous yet slender cut of the poets beloved celestial object into a flattened little .jpg on a desktop. I moved it around the screen in my mind. I accidentally “dropped” it and had to go back with my pointy little cursor. I mentally hovered the thumbnail of the moon over the desktop trashcan, then pulled it away and set it back down gently. I was tipsy with the small, silly power granted by my imagination.
and for some reason, instead of running away with the thought into a poem - I immediately went into an investigation of how the moon looking like a fingernail clipping became a thumbnail of the moon. it was not difficult to walk through how I had gotten from the shape of the actual moon in the sky to the fabricated moon, simply through the hinge of the word nail and two very different applications (thumbnail, nail clipping). unusual, but still traceable – a great example of how the mind creates poetry. walking made space for the association, for the slight creativity needed to turn a cliche into something more unique and weird, but still recognizable.
and because I am very unpracticed in writing down these thoughts about poetry, but very practiced at keeping them sort of cataloged in my mind – here is the dismount for this micro essay.
thumbnail of the moon (natural satellite???!!)
