It's Probably Too Late

This is a bag of Apollo 11 trash left behind

This is a map of Apollo 11's landing site and its immediate area. The hatched area marked "Toss Zone" is where you can find the trash left behind during Apollo 11's stay on the moon. Keep in mind that to insure return from a Lunar landing that all unecessary weight is shed. While it is considerably smaller than that of Earth, the Moon's gravity well is deep enough to be a concern. It is not exactly smart to pack the weight of the trash back home.

Here is one list of objects that have accumulated on the moon. It is mostly complete, I imagine. Apollo 11's contribution is included. Not everything on the list is trash. Most is:

• more than 70 spacecraft, including rovers, modules, and crashed orbiters
• 5 American flags
• 2 golf balls
• 12 pairs of boots
• TV cameras
• film magazines
• 96 bags of urine, feces, and vomit
• numerous Hasselbad cameras and accessories
• several improvised javelins
• various hammers, tongs, rakes, and shovels
• backpacks
• insulating blankets
• utility towels
• used wet wipes
• personal hygiene kits
• empty packages of space food
• a photograph of Apollo 16 astronaut Charles Duke's family
• a feather from Baggin, the Air Force Academy's mascot falcon, used to conduct Apollo 15's famous "hammer-feather drop" experiment
• a small aluminum sculpture, a tribute to the American and Soviet "fallen astronauts" who died in the space race -- left by the crew of Apollo 15
• a patch from the never-launched Apollo 1 mission, which ended prematurely when flames engulfed the command module during a 1967 training exercise, killing three U.S. astronauts
• a small silicon disk bearing goodwill messages from 73 world leaders, and left on the moon by the crew of Apollo 11
• a silver pin, left by Apollo 12 astronaut Alan Bean
• a medal honoring Soviet cosmonauts Vladimir Komarov and Yuri Gagarin
• a cast golden olive branch left by the crew of Apollo 11

On Orange Is A Fruit, Irene wrote:
which phantom were you?
by Irene

I hadn’t yet known grief.
That will be six years later
whose long cawing vibrated
after my dad’s leave-taking.
The tenor opened a veil,
a trapping I never asked for.

That spring unleashed all
the phantoms. Mainly it was
sleep deprivation. By the time I
recovered, I was transfigured by
the eschatology of leave-takings.
I stayed in the grove with my baby.

To which I replied

It's Probably Too Late

I don't know which one.
Some phantom took me over
the gap between us,
me with my cold flame,
you with feathers and white cake.

I turned thirty so
long ago. No hope
for a return flight. I've not
the grit for take off.

I would hope I could
reach the moon despite
there's no air there and colder
than a marble bum.
Oh I'm lousy at
housekeeping so I would leave
all my trash behind.
They won't let me go.

‎April ‎16, ‎2014 8:33 PM

See Irene's Orange Is A Fruit