because while some truths lend themselves to equations, others are best described in verse

quarter past two


An owl-
eyed moon hangs
low like overripe fruit,
menacing the hot
horizon with her glowy
berth. Sweat
beads on the skin
of rooftops, perspiring
night-dreams of a dirt-nailed
city bent on creating
itself. The river drowses uneasily.
It smells
like jungle, and sex.

There is good mud here, and this
is no time for sleeping indoors.

Wild things
etch their names into wet
downtown cement, pile
old bricks into hillforts
from which they fling love
songs at one another
and think slyly of revolution.
Laughing, we
shake the moondust
out of wind-blown hair
and run to catch
the current,
kiss the river

30 responses

  1. Wow, this is beautiful.

    July 19, 2011 at 11:16 am

  2. Tiger Windwalker

    Forgotten man
    The source flows sweet
    By his front door
    Where he labors
    In fitful dreams
    This night could be
    The end or the beginning
    But he is likely
    Not to be aroused
    By cicadas, mewing kittens
    Or his own hard on
    Catching his rest
    From meaningless careers
    The full moon
    Does not touch his soul
    And the languid river
    Only makes him
    More drowsy.

    July 19, 2011 at 11:49 am

    • Thanks, as always, Tiger, for sharing your gifts with me here. i feel sorry for this “forgotten man”; i wish he could see what he is missing…

      Peace & love,

      July 21, 2011 at 10:04 am

  3. Anonymous

    Reeally like the brick song-forts. Thanks for –
    Peter G.

    July 19, 2011 at 1:09 pm

  4. wow – this is awesome writing… a dirt-nailed
    city bent on creating
    itself – smelling like jungle and sex – they are the same all over the world…and you just nailed it…nice to meet you

    July 19, 2011 at 3:23 pm

    • thanks, claudia. πŸ™‚ i think i may have run across you before at the One Shot; loving this new poetic venue at dVerse!

      July 21, 2011 at 10:06 am

      • sorry – sometimes i just lose myself in the poetic flow…and always glad when i remember my own name…smiles..
        read this piece again and really love it…

        August 3, 2011 at 10:01 am

  5. really a wonderful flow…the two line break in the middle works well…and the second stanza has some great textures in it…go join the river…

    July 19, 2011 at 3:37 pm

    • thanks, brian. think i will… πŸ˜‰ nice to see you round, as always.

      July 21, 2011 at 10:09 am

  6. Beautiful word pictures… “shake the moondust out of wind-blown hair”

    July 19, 2011 at 3:52 pm

  7. Sweat
    beads on the skin
    of rooftops, perspiring
    night-dreams of a dirt-nailed
    city bent on creating
    itself. The river drowses uneasily.
    It smells

    This brought forth our recent trip down the Nile. Cairo rang in my ears. Excellent work.

    July 19, 2011 at 4:57 pm

  8. Your imagery always astounds me. The opener in particular here –

    An owl-
    eyed moon hangs
    low like overripe fruit,

    funnily enough my poem also features a fat moon, and teh moon was the theme in a prompt/contest we ran on the Facebook crit group I admin. Lunacy!

    July 19, 2011 at 5:18 pm

    • haha, lunacy indeed, Luke! i gotta get over to your FB group one of these days… thanks for dropping by– it’s always a pleasure. πŸ™‚

      July 21, 2011 at 10:12 am

  9. This is so very good, just replete with sensory images that drew me into the poem. Hope to see more of you.

    July 19, 2011 at 5:23 pm

  10. Great imagery and great flow…lovely!

    July 19, 2011 at 5:36 pm

  11. Hot poetry with inspiring imagery. Wow!

    July 19, 2011 at 11:52 pm

  12. Anonymous

    Marvelous imagery and pacing!

    July 20, 2011 at 12:28 am

  13. WoW! This is amazing!
    Totally vivid!

    Nicely done!

    July 20, 2011 at 6:54 am

  14. Very evocative! I especially enjoyed these lines:

    There is good mud here, and this
    is no time for sleeping indoors.

    July 20, 2011 at 11:23 am

    • Thanks, David! Those lines stood out particularly for me, too–one of my favorite parts in the piece.

      July 21, 2011 at 10:13 am

  15. This is so good. I count on that now. Every single poem you write is sure to be rewarding.

    I love all the things I get to think about with these lines:
    “The river drowses uneasily.
    It smells
    like jungle, and sex.”

    I love the whole thing.

    July 20, 2011 at 10:45 pm

    • Carl, you’re making me blush again. It’s always so nice to hear your kind comments. Thanks.

      July 21, 2011 at 10:14 am

  16. The way you start talking about sweat and then have it coming from rooftops – that angled view of reality. Most intriguing. There is so much fertile imagery in this, and I look forward to developing a better understanding of your work.
    Since the last poem was so edgy, this one might be a good palette cleanser:
    Peace, Amy

    July 21, 2011 at 1:56 am

  17. Thanks Amy, Andy, ayala, Anna, Anon and all who took the time to read and drop a comment– I appreciate each and every one. You guys are awesome.

    Off to get ready for some …well, not quite “Pub,” but more “wine bar” poetics this evening. *butterflies* πŸ™‚


    July 21, 2011 at 10:20 am

  18. It’s a city after dark when the sunlight has forsaken her secrets with no more shadow to hide behind. I could smell it, indeed! Fantastic!

    July 21, 2011 at 12:06 pm

  19. Excellent poem– shows an accomplished sensibility at work. Join us at — love to have you– all best– Jenne’

    July 22, 2011 at 2:35 pm

  20. Love it!

    July 28, 2011 at 2:13 am

  21. Thanks, ladies! Jenne- I’ll be sure to check it out! πŸ™‚

    August 1, 2011 at 11:19 am

  22. Fantastic. I have good (but mostly bad) memories of my activities at a quarter past two. What an interesting and creative thing to write about… Great work, I’m looking forward to reading more of your poetry.

    If you get a chance, check out my site.

    August 7, 2011 at 6:56 pm

  23. Pregnant with imagery and metaphor almost every line. It is the kind of stuff that keeps me reading and hungry for more.

    August 12, 2011 at 3:46 pm


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