Thread: Back to Back Beneath the Moonlight

Night mud
buries
slum of Jersey City
from site.

I
in
white
impolite
diaphanous gown
walk.

Long forever trail…
picking up
cigarette ash
crackhead spit
crunched Cicada wings.

3 am
damn dicey
here in
the silence
Out Loud.

I
Lung full of air
at my door
no pocket
no key
in dirty angle
peek a boo.

Ready to
slam,
bleed knuckles
on landlord’s door

But wait…

Morphing
into door
then through
like liquidated rubber.

I
strip off
Jersey City, Jersey City….

I
wake.
madness, no mercy,
this dream.

Back to sleep
phone rings
4 am
"Your days are numbered"

The whistle, bright yellow,
blows into phone
ear drum ruptured
no call back
no horrid haunt.

I
return
sleep,
disturbed

Then wake,
pinching flesh
till it hurts.

Cigarette ash
crackhead spit
Cicada wings
wicked phone call
bright yellow whistle
ruptured ear drum

Madness, merciless,
this dream

No longer fond of the moon

No matter where I read this I'm a fan.

Thank Whit! As you can see I made a few changes but kept your advice in mind and left the last line in.

Laurie I do like what you are trying to do here Hun. I am not going to critique it. I have this feeling you have a very precise image in your head, and frankly I think critting it might do more harm than good. Here's my only suggestion. Tighten your images very tightly, and then swing them back, and forth as if they were a body turning abruptly. This is an apprehensive night you are talking about here. I would suggest relaying that even more than you have. Think of the techniques of a really good horror movie.

This is different, and interesting to read. How can any writer not like that ?

Maggie, your suggestions are noted. I tackled a complicated subject. The dream within a dream. I felt so so about it so your feedback is appreciated. I do agree. A little more horror.