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- Boston Moon
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- Barrett Wolf
Riding a Harley between Cape Cod and Boston on the kind of night that one could swear was built just to ride. Using imagery of color and texture, Wolf evokes the road and a sense of wonder that takes him beyond mere travel, into the hypnotic world of dream...
Biker Poetry from J. Barrett Wolf, member of the Highway Poets Motor Cycle Club, the International Association of Published Bikers.
From his CD "Bitchslapped by the Muse",
©2005 Tannery Road Productions
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Piece Description
Riding a Harley between Cape Cod and Boston on the kind of night that one could swear was built just to ride. Using imagery of color and texture, Wolf evokes the road and a sense of wonder that takes him beyond mere travel, into the hypnotic world of dream... Biker Poetry from J. Barrett Wolf, member of the Highway Poets Motor Cycle Club, the International Association of Published Bikers. From his CD "Bitchslapped by the Muse", ©2005 Tannery Road Productions
Transcript
Boston Moon
On a warm midsummer evening
I ride the sixty or so miles back from Boston
Playing tag with a Full Red moon.
I see it blood orange dark, at first, through the trees.
It waivers, disappears, leaving a bloom of
slate and indigo tint on the spaces
between each whisper of clouds.
The heat of the day leaves me grateful
For the cool and cautious miles
That unfurl before my lights.
Behind is the call and response of fuel burn thunder,
The throaty drone of forties technology
And a sense of having traveled through space
beneath the moon as it rises returning,
Brightening:
Wheat, bisque, pale ivory
A futile attempt to drive back the darkness,
keep the night, then the morning, at bay.
Now the full, soft lunar face seems to write my path
in soft grain of flax and azure
the endless horizon of hyphenated concrete panels.
How much is there to dream...
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