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
goodnight.

30 thoughts on “quarter past two

  1. 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
    Oblivious
    Catching his rest
    From meaningless careers
    The full moon
    Does not touch his soul
    And the languid river
    Only makes him
    More drowsy.

    • 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,
      –jsl

  2. 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

  3. 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…

  4. 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.

  5. 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!

  6. 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.

  7. 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™‚

    Peace,
    –jsl

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