#tom spanbauer

[haveyoureadthisbook-poll]

Have you read The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon by Tom Spanbauer (1991)?

yes

no

I didn't finish it

I've never heard of it

Voting ended onJul 17, 2025

[orpheuslament]

"'All of us,' my mother had said, '– the four-leggeds, the winged ones, the fish, the animals who crawl, the two-legged – what we really are, are spirits trapped inside our bodies, begging to be set free.'"

— The Man Who Fell in Love with the Moon, Tom Spanbauer

[narylfiel]

Dear broken Mother, here, let me hold myself in such a way that you will see me, and if you see me, if I can make you smile, the trouble will leave your eyes and your eyes will go soft and be gold.

Tom Spanbauer, Now is the Hour

[beautymyeyes-see]

Maybe you've had skin next to your skin, but when was the last time you let yourself be touched?

Tom Spanbauer, In the City of Shy Hunters

[tanyabengtsson]

The Concerned Horseicorn (the unicorn with no horn)

“For the most part, I'd say if you crossed a cat with a smart dog, made him a matriarchal vegetarian, gave him sleek beauty, a mass of muscle, and the desire to run, then what you'd have is a horse.”

― Tom Spanbauer, In the City of Shy Hunters

[xboxbarbie]

Tom Spanbauer and the art of ‘dangerous writing’ | Oregon Art Beat

[letterstoayoungvampire]

—Cuando llegue mi hora vendré a morir aquí—dijo Dellwood—. La historia dice que si vives tu vida sin traicionar a tu corazón, encontrarás un lugar como éste al que poder ir cuando mueras, y que podrás contar la historia de tu vida en voz alta a la naturaleza, que te escuchará. La muerte esperará hasta que hayas terminado con tu canción, con tu baile y con todo lo que tengas que hacer para poder contar tu historia. Cuando cuentes tu historia entenderás lo que has conocido. Y eso, el conocimiento comprendido, es la mejor sensación posible

Tom Spanbauer, El hombre que se enamoró de la luna

[suicide-inthe-trenches]

«“Don’t be too disappointed if you never find out about your mother,” Owlfeather said. “What happened to the Indian peope is the same as if a giant wind had come along and threw us around for years and years. Killed almost everybody, this giant wind, then left the rest for dead. When the living, like your mother, went back to their homes, they couldn’t find their homes, or the hills or the valleys where their homes used to be. Indian people got thrown around so much, got used to misery and dying, that they started to forget things like why they were living. ‘Why do we live?’ ‘Why do we live?’ they went around asking each other. But nobody could remember. That hot bayonet was stuck trough their brains ear to ear and they couldn’t remember. There’s only so much pain you can feel before you start forgetting. Pretty soon pain is your mother. Lost is your mother. Pain and lost is your home. You got to know who you are and why you live before you can fins your way home.”»