Howl Moonstruck

2022. Inspired by Ginsberg's Howl.

I
Thrice the bells to welcome night,

madmen huddle out of sight.

Behold the miracle of flight, as

the dove is bathed in neon light.

.

Once - trace the fingers round the palm.

Twice - there never was a sense of calm.

Thrice - only breaks in the alarm, as

the neon dove coos songful psalm.

 

Sing on, fair lady, full of night,

sing of secrets, sing of sight -

sing of drugs and getting fucked, as

neon street-dogs howl moonstruck.

II

Night mind full of light mindful of night-blind eyes full of light lite-as-a kite-whip-rush-fast-as-a-thrush dart dive on a neon night flight three fallen stars headlights and cars pollution and sars sends senses senile sick senseless census sorting the sense from the senseless sent us senile sick sacrificial tick,                                        tick           tick.

I’m with you now -

in sub-basement black sites

Under railways and black-lights,

with bruises and ripped tights.

I’m with you now -

in the lighthouse and the whorehouse,

in the townhouse and the poorhouse,

head shaven and fuel-doused.

I’m with you now -

We burn together.

III

Cast adrift on an emerald-green sea,

tied to the flailing mast by my belt.

Just I, the devil, and Eros makes three,

I try to reason the cards I was dealt.

I’ve moved with the ocean, joined my voice to the cries,

I’ve spoken strange tongues twixt the quivering thighs.

Like the third-day-Christ I’ve endeavored to rise

to pray at the altar just south of the eyes.

 

Humour me my man-child’s tune,

like you, I am tied to the moon,

like you I fear being marooned,

beneath it all I do love you.

 

Beneath it all I do love you.

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Kit... tied to the Moon over the Emerald Green Sea... to worship Love.
Beautiful Poetry. softly, Pat

[emmajoygreen]

Covers so many wildnesses: both harbour and journey, static or dandelion heads flying all over and under.

[Vol]

Kit,
Truely the definition of why poetry is an important study. I'm seeing a multicolored quilt laid down on everything real as both an attractant, and a summary of the necessary things of just getting by. This is the second poem today I've got to save for further study...
Nice, indeed and reminiscent of Leonard Cohen's poetry...
"I’ve moved with the ocean, joined my voice to the cries,
I’ve spoken strange tongues twixt the quivering thighs."
Vol