Original Country

Published : Monday, October 29, 2007 | Label: Essays  


I lived for seven years where you could lie down with the moon.

When she was full she’d slouch across the northern sky, and loiter around midnight in my bedroom window. I’d turn off the light and let her fall on me. For three or four nights at a stretch each month, in that house at the edge of a cliff, that is how sleep would come, out of a crow-black sky.

I dreamed well there. I made some books. I made some poems. We made, my girl and I, a marriage, and a couple of moon-bright children. I let a plateau dawn on me.

{Mark writes: This essay appears in an anthology, Let There Be Light, in October 2008 (University of Nevada Press). I’ll have to leave you to find the rest of it there.}


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