The Midnight Jury is Out
High the moon just wobbles, teetering at the billowed lip,
a lunar nickel or quarter slipped in the planetary coin slot
of a vending machine for skies, dispensing a branded cloudy bar.
Stoic the Moonman peers down from his high detachment
and spies the bulking crust that made the planet massive.
He covets this former soil, lost in an earthen glancing blow,
a sticky collision with a clumsy, bumbling world. It pinched
a load of pay dirt with the grubby tips of gravitational fingers
then swiftly hid the take inside a mangle of turgid mud.
The communal illusion of world, with all its weight and wonder,
entices islands of eternity to settle here, to be local for awhile
and wear the masks of self, ensembled with a cloaking face.
Mort the Deadman squints at the four square rim overhead,
a line in the sand in the shape of an oblong cutter for the soil.
He reminisces the last dance, final steps in the finale complete,
hot flesh in the follow, stepping quick to the tunes of appetites,
firm in their lead and fast on their feet, taking turn after turn
until he no longer could see to foresee the coronary collapse.
Faith is rising steam from the hot springs of a deep amnesia,
a forgetting of ill fortunes that forfeits the mind to hope alone,
discarding the burden of caution like a litter for the past.
Comic the Fallman is splayed again, akimbo from a pratfall and
smarting, a fated fool bruised on a turn of the unfriendly card.
He appears like a one-trick pony, archetypically typecast in
oblivious pose, an unintentional jester who stumbles without fail
to chase a shimmered surface that dangles in the distance,
taking one last step too many, alas, at the point of no return.
About the Poem
This poem was inspired by the sight of a full moon seeming to be perched in the clouds, spotted when out late one night for a walk. The rest was largly stream of consciousness until I began to work each stanza to be about one of a trio of fantasy chraracters that came to my mind. Here is a video interpretation of this poem, read by David:
Midnight Jury is OutA poem offering thoughts about the experience of dreaming and how in dreams we are creators of whole realities in which we are able to command miracles. Until we awake. View on YouTube
This poem is previously unpublished in print. This poem was finished November 6, 2014.