(This was inspired in part by the full moon in mid-July and some moments shared with my posse-Carm and Eric!! Along with a few other memories and some past life regression therapy i did last year-yeah I WAS a cloud can you believe it!?) Moon swallow fish Small whiskered catfish, polliwogs and pumpkin seeds swam in an integrated school along the shallows of the mill pond. So many together, their dark streamline bodies creating a giant shadow beneath the still surface of the water. The polliwogs stuck to the sand and decomposed leaves along the pond floor, next level up, the catfish and above them the bony pumpkin seeds forming an enigmatic hierarchy of pond life, yet swimming together as one, oblivious to their self imposed class system. And I on the dock as the sun sank in a flame burst of orange and salmon pink and lavender hued sky. Twilight overtaking the flamboyant showing all too quickly, leaving the cool dusky blue that feels so quiet and in that moment I am without corporeal form yet isolated just the same. Moon rise, opposing the memory of the sunset canopy, such forgetfulness as comes with a full moon in a clear sky. No person should ever attempt to ignore the moon, unless they wish to remain eternally concerned with the anxieties of mundane living. The moon is a gift to our subconscious, facing us with cold white clarity, staring us down, piercing through our intellect and pointing to the unknown with fingers in every direction. Give thanks for confusion, don't shake your head and try to clear it, potentiality in gestation. Tonight the clouds are swimming fish, and one large momma trout swims over to taste the glowing moonbait, she finds it to her liking and swallows, she passing over it, it passing through her and slowly she digests and then disintegrates herself. Omens! Portents! And then look! Low patches of fog with gaping round mouths, yes here are fog fish swimming along the surface, as the catfish swam before, slow fat lazy drifters, and somewhat menacing as well. My head feels like a lighter than air gas, floating off my shoulders, expanding, the ensuing explosion will release me into the stratosphere, where I shall swim with the cloudfish, and the moon, tasting cool air as is passes through me. I will become the dewy reflection of myself. I have been a cloud before, in a life before this, and in this and after this, I have been a cloud. All innocence and moisture, and swim float disperse, images I have been, rabbits, cyclists, hippopotamii, whales and fish, faces of strangers, castles, doorways, all of this I have been. My powers are gentle and few, to be seen and interpreted and filed into memory, shared with friends and pointed out, such an exhibitionist am I!! Once there was a young boy playing on the beach, alone in his imagination creating sandcastle worlds, collecting sea life exoskeletons, piles of polished stones, sweet nothings pouring from his lips as he spoke his ritual magic youth! And I floating overhead the only witness to his joy, towhead bowed, never looking past his beautiful creation. And the sun, was beating him into oblivion, I played the hero, floating between him and the sun, cooling his back and bringing his awareness out of himself. The sudden sensation of shadow on hot skin, he squints up at me then turns his gaze up and down the empty beach. Is it possible he did not know he was alone, he grabs his pail and shovel and runs for the embankment, scrambling up the short cliff, across the scrubby meadow and through the creaking screen door of a gray shingled cottage. Snapping shut with a bang of finality. I love him. And I disintegrate. Back on the dock now, I am lonely for that boy, and the moon is reflecting shards into my heart, so I dive into the water, intent that one should pierce me and put me out of my misery. What but unbidden memory, painful and cruel, melancholy, and why? The stories of mermaids saving sailors lost at sea, and falling in love with their charge, at least they had the feel of their lover's skin. I am so ridiculous, my rescue insignificant, a cloud in love with a boy. But I know he will become a sailor, and I will rain on him, and some time he will jump from airplanes and pass through me, oh ecstasy! He will lie in meadows watching for me, I will send him messages in the images I create, his head will forever be in the clouds, in me, my moisture in him, he will create me as he breathes. This heavy human form clamors out of the water, lugs oneself up the ladder, lumbers heavily off the dock, legs of wood and rubber incapable of floating, or even treading lightly. I am frustrated by the body and long for the next full moon when I will become cloud and memory, history and interpretive formations of the random thoughts of strangers. Werecloud.