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Asleep Somewhere on Thirteenth and Elm

you can’t speak to the night,
though it speaks to you,
in the sound of Bessie Smith
singing blues, her voice
mingling with the static
of a half-tuned radio.
and you can’t be heard
above the slowness of water
trickling endlessly down the gutter
and flirting with car tires
on sundry streets.
'cause no, the night will not try
to speak to you
above the sound of
a phantom lover’s voice,
ghostly murmurs of smoke and honey,
whispering intangibles
that linger like perfume.

7 Mar 07

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Another good one from you. Just a few nits:
l7 - I would prefer one or the other and take out the parenthesis.
l11 - not sure about (sundry) streets though I can't think of another alliterative word other than several and that just kills it.
l16 - I would lose 'dripping'. It's not necessary, and used with honey becomes too cliche.

Just personal nits...I do like this a lot.

 — unknown

Thanks for your comment. I made some changes in lines seven, twelve, sixteen, and seventeen.
 — the_recluse

I like this a lot.  Line 7 - begin with and?  Are you sure that's the best thing?

This is a case where smallness fits the mood of the poem.  
 — Isabelle5

Isabelle - Thanks for reading this. I'll think about changing up line seven. It bothers me too.
 — the_recluse