Self-conscious
talking about abuse
I see myself
served by every body
the only oven
Contemplative poems
Contemplative poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
Impediment
the peak stands
alone as a drowsy god
against my plain
and ready road
Unwinding
day long as a sermon
or a letter in clear ink
so tomorrow might not appear
where we drink
Pretty
pretty is a lie
I love to translate
a ready key to forms
in one word
the best of all plaudits
at writing off
Testing the water
not yet light
I put my hand in the sea
to learn the difference between
air and prayer
Tools
we hear nothing till matters settle
of the vast trade of money at dear rates
an audience full of weak hands
and seahorse teeth
having love for the high ground
that great taffeta the world wears
Wings
a bat in the church
they light candles
for the new year
Outward
weary with myself
I watch the fields
their leased light
the fox at play
Myrmecology
ants work in the garden
like a cold fire
no wit or language
work below
the bottom of the wall
a little life I study
how to do
Spectator
going about business
every day in the week
I see them slide
what jig requires us
to run the world?
what contented life irks?
I sit looking over
the book of dances
serving time
Lull
foolish world
they tell me the wind is dead
my old and most
ingenious acquaintance
the snow talking peace
like the evening light
Off-duty
the soldiers quiet
in morning sunshine
at the door of a wine-house
only passing through
like a dark high flock
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