Wild Imprints: A Prose-Poem

Summary

"Wild Imprints: A Prose-Poem" captures a nocturnal bicycle ride that becomes a metaphorical journey towards the moon, reflecting on themes of freedom, longing, and the wildness of nature and human instinct amidst the constraints of city life during a lockdown.

Abstract

The prose-poem "Wild Imprints" is a vivid narrative that follows the author's nocturnal bicycle ride through a city under lockdown. The night's humidity, the city's buildings, and the rising moon create a backdrop for the author's contemplation of freedom and their yearning to break free from the city's confines. The poem is rich with imagery of the natural world intertwining with urban structures, as the author fantasizes about riding on helium-filled tires to meet the moon. The celestial bodies, particularly the moon (Selene) and Venus, play a significant role in the narrative, symbolizing the allure of the untamed and the distant. The poem also touches on the absence of a loved one, the longing for connection, and the desire to dance to the rhythm of the wild gods. It concludes with a dedication to J.D. Harms and a reference to the literary forest of Scrittura, where such mythic impulses can be expressed.

Opinions

The author expresses a desire for liberation from the city's lockdown, personifying the city as being "lock-jawed" and holding its inhabitants hostage.
The moon is personified as a shy mistress, revealing only parts of herself, which adds to the poem's sense of longing and mystery.
The author muses on the idea of riding a bicycle on helium-filled tires, a whimsical notion that underscores a deep yearning for escape and transcendence.
The celestial bodies, Venus in particular, are described with a sense of awe and admiration, reflecting the author's reverence for the cosmos.
The poem conveys a sense of isolation, with the author feeling alone amidst the "frantic bacchanalia," emphasizing the contrast between the vibrant life of the city and the author's personal sense of solitude.
The author seems to critique the loss of wildness in modern life, with people trying to reconnect with their primal instincts during the night, as if in response to the call of the wild.
The poem suggests that the night sky and the celestial bodies serve as a mirror for the author's innermost feelings and longings, particularly the absence of a loved one.

I’m seeking the moon

Gliding through the half-dark — a preternatural humidity caressing skin — like an unseen lover. Like a moth’s muffled flight through twilight — the hum and whir of my bicycle wheels — I’m seeking the moon — or hoping it finds me.

Jagged teeth of buildings gnash against the skyline — this city — lock-jawed in lockdown, holding me hostage for months, clamped tight on us all — finally risks a yawn — just wide enough for my eyes to catch a crescent moon rising — perhaps on this subtle steam of humidity —moon seeming to keep pace with me — my bicycle seat with a view.

Can I fill my tyres with helium — drifting upwards like a balloon to meet the moon — leaning into the curve of its amber aura — coasting the boundary between dark and light. Are these imaginings symptoms of lunacy — and as soon as I question the impossible — I fall — back to earth like Icarus, back into my body — the seductive night removing my coat — I’m a red streak red bike in the night — dreaming of meteors — fast, but lacking levity, trapped in gravity.

Selene is shy tonight — only revealing the burnished curve of thigh — or perhaps the glow, serene, of a smile under lowered veil — or the tease of a wink, beneath a kohl-shaded lid — her charms made more elusive with distance — she’s a mistress of mystery tonight — yet aching into her full potential —

like the night-drunk whoops — mating cries from mouths unmasked in defiance — erupting out of the dark of the park I pass through — underscored by the beats and pulsing of too-loud music — an aural offering to the wild gods — as they try to fit their feet into those cloven-footed imprints in the grass of their mythic unconscious — untamed choreographies of unbridled ecstacies, as they try to spring fur from their follicles — all their wildness not quite lost, but not quite found. Impatient for their own full moons — they’re howling for the lack of it.

Look up beyond Selene’s subtle beauty — to a silver-sequined Venus, glitttering audacity, eclipsing Antares with her radiance, flirting brazenly with the sting in Scorpius’ tail — she’s survived some slings and arrows in her time. And her burning brightness sparks a longing — preternatural — for you — alone, amongst this frantic bacchanalia — because the gates of this fenced Arcadia close at curfew — the ache of your absence sears through me — like the sting of Scorpius in my blood. And the night sky, lake-still, reflects back only your face.

And I yearn into the dark, into the distance, whispering your name to ears that are pointed on the inside, love, where I know you hear me — to the inner ear of your instincts. Imagining our bare feet finding those wild imprints — skins scented with humidity — laughter rising to meet the moon.

Wild Imprints is in response to the Bacchic imaginings of J.D. Harms and his prompt The Wild Natural. So thrilled that Scrittura is its own untamed literary forest where I can howl out my mythic impulses.

More Prosetry:

Wild Imprints: A Prose-Poem

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