Nigel pinged me for my favorite poem. I’m too fried to write anything of my own at the moment. My favorite, of all the ones that have gone past my eyes? Midnight Dancer. Once a pretty boy with soft skin read it to me by the light of his computer screen. Sometimes it echoes in my thoughts when I’m not quite paying attention.
Langston Hughes
Midnight Dancer (To a Black Dancer in “The Little Savoy”)
Wine-maiden
Of the jazz-tuned night,
Lips
Sweet as purple dew,
Breasts
Like the pillows of all sweet dreams,
Who crushed
The grapes of joy
And dripped their juice
On you?
One Comment
Thanks for sharing. It brings to my mind a funny image of you drinking a giant chalice containing a wine cocktail with the grapes of joy and the grapes of wrath mixed together.
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