Moon has cleared
The night is not lost
Can all be ours
At no cost.
Birds sing
Not to be kept in
(Like us)
But to be lost
For the shadows play havoc in their head
(No one tells them go to bed).
Energy, Exhaustion, Ecstasy:
(All one thing, Berbers say).
The city hot
(Smells heightened
Genitals reek
Easy to seek
Out, enveloping
emotions).
The city old
(Dignified
hardness protrudes
in tight tracksuit
bottoms).
Don’t be tired
There’s lots of people
To meet
Then sleep.
But like a moth
At night
Attracted and Detracted
By the moon
Who
(All of a sudden)
has gone to bed too soon.
Poor Moon
used and bruised
by so many watchers.
Don’t keep on being used
it’s got no respect
and you’re better than it,
My moon.

– 1994