an empty moon over a suburban garden

a poem

a filtered light strained and old

that hangs over us man crawlers

we are loaded with slow blood

we jaw-jaw over evening circles

empty as a watering can in august

up and up the garden, down down

we hammer the green into squares

as we think we may, foolish with dust 

Reviews

[Ruth]

Stunning metaphor as always Leslie...your poetry is remarkable, I am always left in awe...humans will be humans...we can never shape nature as much as one would try...nature shapes us :)

[Einstein Noodle]

man Leslie! this is a keeper .. love the sense of the "beat" guys ... strong, stirring words ... the irony of our scamperings about the planet with such self importance is great wisdom ... just to acknowledge it .. thanks for sharing sir! great stuff!
E.

[Leslie Philibert]

My thanks for looking at this, a little better than most of the work I have produced lately !

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and it seems old age can either make us so much wiser, or so much more foolish...i think i have become the latter...and am gaining more grey and more rust.

j.

[Leslie Philibert]

dear Jacob, my thanks for looking at this. At the moment I am trying to write well, in the knowledge that most of my work has not the quality I expect from myself, but I keep working...

[E. M. DuBois]

Well, at least you know it's not a problem of presentation. it seems every time I turn around, I find errors in my work, or some other thing that causes me to have to edit my work a thousand times before wanting someone to see it.