If I could be anywhere, it would be in my car headed towards the moon. The moon, our magistrate, moves our souls around like puppets in a box—watching us feel, experience, and explore all we do not know. She smiles on us, laughs at us in misfortune, and provides a certain light when it is convenient for her. She is in control of our emotional wavelengths, and finds vulnerability and honesty in all things. Frequently, you can find me in my car, speeding away at odd hours of the night—searching for her. I find that I write my best haiku under the moon, where I can open my body up to the power of the sky. Therefore, this collection of haiku, ruled by above, shows each moon of my life—sometimes waning, sometimes waxing. Under true headlights, you can see each dip and curve of the path in front of you, and under true moonlight, you can see each dip and curve of the path behind you . . .
Welcome to my moon. Are you coming?