Lunacy
the great sea
belongs to the present
all the rest already
is gone to rust
where madness
is half moon
shining so that it aches
raving in my sleep
Anxious poems
Anxious poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
Liminoid
doors confess all
to my hand
one of the many
temptations of faith
to and fro I lumber
and never go to sleep
Hyperthermia
arson is as good
as summer
at noon in my closet
making me an urn
and the dead are secure
in their long-gone bed
Time change
old as my own hat
the morning at noon
me and the night
drawing up our unrest
Sturm und drang
light up to see
in a dark room
while the tempest sings
a most excellent music
a dark pleasure
this blood I bleed out
Parasight
the tick took no notice
of her being married
finding her face
under the bed
Spoilage
the stinking mutt being wet
we met to walk
all evening my eyes
weary with work
under the fear of spoil
my forever ink
Misconstrued
ay rose
a poor music
calling us
by wrong names
we saw ourselves
reflecting in rust
we who hear ill news
and find some gizzard
Luck
On the third & last day
of bear season, the hunter returns
to his perch on the boulder
more from habit than any realistic hope.
But every rustle in the leaves
still summons up the childhood
excitement of static on
a shortwave radio: some signal
that might come in, given patience
& a delicate touch.
So when the bear appears,
his breathing scarcely changes,
the rifle rises to his shoulder,
the scope to his eye
& the world
grows closer
Objective correlatives
a window new-painted
do not open
private garden rose
the language in a laugh
endless music
beating a dog to death
field full of haze
something broke us bad
dark door
he could not find his whip
our old candle
a way almost to be
Taking the heat
the heat between two hands
ill of a fever
two lands
ill of money
as with so much seeking
is sure to come home
Stormy
noon tempest
like a cold country
full of eyes
and we forced to submit
to that disquiet
are all in pieces
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