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Starshine & Clay
We are making our lives up -here on this bridge / between starshine and clay- (Lucille Clifton). Addressing tough circumstances tenderly, this book is about life--what we inherit, what we create, what shapes us, what's possible.
127 pages, Paperback
Published September 5, 2017
About the author
Kamilah Aisha Moon
8 books13 followersA recipient of fellowships to the Cave Canem Foundation, the Prague Summer Writing Institute, the Fine Arts Work Center in Provincetown, MA, and the Vermont Studio Center, Kamilah Aisha Moon's work has been featured in several journals and anthologies, including Harvard Review, jubilat, Sou’wester, Oxford American, Lumina, Callaloo, Bloom, Villanelles and Gathering Ground. She teaches English and Creative Writing in a variety of institutions and settings, and holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Sarah Lawrence College.
A native of Nashville, TN, Moon currently lives in Brooklyn, NY.
A native of Nashville, TN, Moon currently lives in Brooklyn, NY.
Ratings & Reviews
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Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews
October 1, 2021
This is going to be a difficult review for me to write. I got the news of Moon’s untimely death (soon after her 48th birthday) while I was traveling and reading this book. Just two weeks ago, I spoke to her at a live Zoom reading. I’ve been a fan of her poetry since before she got her MFA and published her first books. I ordered Sunshine & Clay immediately after the reading to take on my trip. Her already powerful poems took on even more meaning as I finished the book. Her work is not only a pleasure, but important. She has always spoken out on behalf of others, from her sister with autism to the many Black Lives Matter poems that open this book.
Moon also radiated stately calm much like Maya Angelou only at half her age. So as I read these poems on the page, I hear her voice paced slowly enough for you to drink in every word. Good love poems, especially universal love poems, are hard to find. So I’ll use her own poem in memoriam. I loved her choice to break compound words in two: “no where” and “every body.” Also notice there is no final period: love without end.
Love
Once you’ve decided (it is a decision)
your skull won’t bleach
in the sun like a lost animal, what else
is there to do in any desert but study at the feet
of succulents drawing relief out of no where,
bristle with lessons? To walk & walk far past
whatever singed – the trudge
of faith every body afire knows until some
inexplicable, glorious flower or face
sirens the water & honey rooted in your cells, rolls
all of the little stones away from the tomb
that still is your heart & roars
without words, rise
Moon also radiated stately calm much like Maya Angelou only at half her age. So as I read these poems on the page, I hear her voice paced slowly enough for you to drink in every word. Good love poems, especially universal love poems, are hard to find. So I’ll use her own poem in memoriam. I loved her choice to break compound words in two: “no where” and “every body.” Also notice there is no final period: love without end.
Love
Once you’ve decided (it is a decision)
your skull won’t bleach
in the sun like a lost animal, what else
is there to do in any desert but study at the feet
of succulents drawing relief out of no where,
bristle with lessons? To walk & walk far past
whatever singed – the trudge
of faith every body afire knows until some
inexplicable, glorious flower or face
sirens the water & honey rooted in your cells, rolls
all of the little stones away from the tomb
that still is your heart & roars
without words, rise
August 16, 2018
This book didn't let me in easily. I had to step away and come back to it several times (which was interesting because I usually devour poetry books in one sitting) I don't yet know what caused this weird dynamic between me and this book. But at the end, it was so worth the struggle. I liked it a lot. I dont have much to say here but Definitely need to spend some more time with the book, read and annotate some poems again and again, some sort over immersion.
Maybe I'll come back with a more substantial review. (And you know, maybe not)
Maybe I'll come back with a more substantial review. (And you know, maybe not)
November 30, 2017
"Women carry rogue galaxies," indeed...
It is difficult to write about excellent poetry without recourse to clichés. "Sweeping range of themes," "riveting imagery," "quietly moving," etc. And yet, Moon's new collection truly is a riveting exploration of themes ranging from old age, illness, grief, lost (and still simmering) loves, politics, and cultural tourism - all done in a stunning, lapidary style.
It is difficult to write about excellent poetry without recourse to clichés. "Sweeping range of themes," "riveting imagery," "quietly moving," etc. And yet, Moon's new collection truly is a riveting exploration of themes ranging from old age, illness, grief, lost (and still simmering) loves, politics, and cultural tourism - all done in a stunning, lapidary style.
January 8, 2024
A beautiful collection, difficult to read at times, but still impressive in those difficulties. With subject matter running the gamut of Moon's personal health struggles, to commentary on the world writ large in all its strange tragedy, Startshine & Clay is a stunning collection, and one I'm very glad I picked up in a little bookshop while travelling last summer.
Look out especially for "Samaria Rice, Tamir's Mother", "Self Portrait as a Bodega in Sunset Park", and "November Morning Prayer".
Look out especially for "Samaria Rice, Tamir's Mother", "Self Portrait as a Bodega in Sunset Park", and "November Morning Prayer".
Read
December 23, 2022Moon’s empathetic attentions seem boundless in these poems, her ability to hold the pain of others and still sing. “The Vulnerable Leading the Vulnerable,” is one way she describes the kind of love her poems describe. Moon’s previous collection, She Has a Name, holds the hearts of a family who love their autistic sister and child. In Starshine & Clay there are other families, other bodies, living and loving the best ways they can. Through surgery and recovery and surgery again, elegy and eulogy and eclogues and eyewitness, Moon never shies away from what it means, for some of us, to be alive. She’s a shapeshifter. One moment full of “sour seed” and “strange plums.” One moment “on a mountain all moonglow / toad moan & green majesty.” I’d wanted to write this review so Moon could celebrate with me the love so many people feel about her work. But we lost this brilliant mind at the end of September, and with her we lost worlds inside worlds inside worlds.
Review published originally with Orion Magazine: https://orionmagazine.org/2021/10/fif...
Review published originally with Orion Magazine: https://orionmagazine.org/2021/10/fif...
December 24, 2017
Grief and sorrow cannot prevail where there exists such sympathetic and empathetic forces as those summoned in the poems of Kamilah Aisha Moon. A litany of deaths, both public and personal, sends shockwaves of violence through these pages with an almost overwhelming regularity. "I understand why many choose not to look--it really does take my breath away." But there is no surrender nor despondency here. Instead, there is within these words transmission of an elemental strength that transcends all suffering, an abiding belief in human perseverance that ("like a tree that's planted by the water," declares that great old song) shall not be moved.
September 30, 2021
The Emperor's Deer
I.
Their noises make you think
they are crying or suffering.
They have learned to bow.
Even the fawns bow, centuries
of bowing
in their blood.
They are not considered wild.
Precious pests litter parks
with dung, take over the roads.
Sweet nuisance worth
saving, thinning these herds
is a last resort—once
a capital offense to spill
their endangered blood.
They are so used to humans, it is scary.
II.
Our cries are heard as noise,
our suffering considered
natural. Native citizens,
we are not free
to roam or deemed sacred
like Japanese bowing deer protected
as messengers of the gods.
Nara, Japan is known for its temples,
shrines to peace.
America is known for its churches,
segregated Sundays.
This is not Nara, Japan.
Hunted, it is always
open season. The sight
of dark skin brings out the wild
in certain human breeds.
Bowing, hands up
or any other gesture of surrender
makes no difference.
They slay our young & leave them
in the streets, expect us to walk away
& wonder, after centuries
why we are not used to this—
grieving masses treated
like waste, filthy herds
thinned at will.
III.
To be clear, this is America
& we are not deer
We are not deer
We are not dear
here
I.
Their noises make you think
they are crying or suffering.
They have learned to bow.
Even the fawns bow, centuries
of bowing
in their blood.
They are not considered wild.
Precious pests litter parks
with dung, take over the roads.
Sweet nuisance worth
saving, thinning these herds
is a last resort—once
a capital offense to spill
their endangered blood.
They are so used to humans, it is scary.
II.
Our cries are heard as noise,
our suffering considered
natural. Native citizens,
we are not free
to roam or deemed sacred
like Japanese bowing deer protected
as messengers of the gods.
Nara, Japan is known for its temples,
shrines to peace.
America is known for its churches,
segregated Sundays.
This is not Nara, Japan.
Hunted, it is always
open season. The sight
of dark skin brings out the wild
in certain human breeds.
Bowing, hands up
or any other gesture of surrender
makes no difference.
They slay our young & leave them
in the streets, expect us to walk away
& wonder, after centuries
why we are not used to this—
grieving masses treated
like waste, filthy herds
thinned at will.
III.
To be clear, this is America
& we are not deer
We are not deer
We are not dear
here
December 9, 2021
Ah "Overheard on Bedford Avenue" is brutal in a great way. I felt that cold wind. And the same jolt of recognition and pain with "Another Episode in the City." These poems are alive. And the very next one, "Self-Portrait as a Bodega in Sunset Park" -- I can't wait to read to the older adults I am going to write with, because I think it will launch them into writing magnificently.
February 6, 2018
This is a powerful collections of poems that deal with a wide range of social issues and personal themes. The poems are mesmerizing. I found that I would read two or three poems each day and then read over and over again.
December 28, 2021
Wow, this book! Go read it, give it as a gift. These poems are gorgeous and hard, with focus and range. I especially appreciate the use of fixed form. I felt myself listening and pausing to think all the way through.
November 6, 2017
Voyeur
Watch how a struck river
composes itself after
each stone, rain.
Watch the water noose
then let loose
what it reflects.
Watch me become
woman as river
& run, run, run!
Watch how a struck river
composes itself after
each stone, rain.
Watch the water noose
then let loose
what it reflects.
Watch me become
woman as river
& run, run, run!
March 9, 2019
Absolutely beautiful. 'Initiation' really hit me and resonates deeply with me.
March 18, 2020
i imagine most of these poems are better suited for live readings (not to be confused with spoken word). much of the collection falls flat on the page, unfortunately.
September 18, 2024
Thoughtful writing that intrigues the reader. “CATARACTS” was a poem that I needed to read twice. They are several ways to interpret this poem. True of several poems.
She left wonderful work.
She left wonderful work.
February 13, 2019
Poetry at its finest for it takes us through injustice over the years and uses language and images that fully engulfs the reader. This is her second book of poems and is as compelling as "She Has A Name". A must read.
Displaying 1 - 15 of 15 reviews