Warden
robins going
out of the prison
I eat a late supper
Contemplative poems
Contemplative poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
Bog body
in the night bog
I part with my road
curious about other things
I lack philosophy enough
to understand bread
or the question of touch
Strange kitchen
a strange kitchen
the stomach
it cannot make too much
for the land
Morning run
the din of the night
bus home
Small time
among the dead I could be
a sorry stranger
but I consider providence
from the bottom of a clock
Stuck
in amber I see
my whole study
of one binding business
before the evening
comes to try
man and ant
Urban pastoral
after great pain
eating a bit of bread in the sun
behind me the savory discourse
of people at the madhouse
Stoner
getting high I fear
I have made myself
debtor to joy
like some question I discharge
into the quiet
Administrator
papers grow upon my hands
and I am cold as a pear
or a captain of order
exempt from land service
but see how, void of method
the fox is wise at all times
After reading
all the books
continuing in me
other matters colors pains
are my own
and near
Morning thaw
night like a bruise
goes away again
now the change from frost
to a great rain
Minutiae
the morning light showed me
a fur on the air
I saw heat and passion as in a war
I discovered little light things
ignorant till then
of microscopic life
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