Silent drunk
I lost my labor to the war,
my time to bed, my place
to a store of wine.
What a sad story!
I make one good thing:
a great quiet.
Contemplative poems
Contemplative poems — a collection of the best works on PoemShip.
Postprandial
After dinner to the garden
to speak a word
into the night.
Desert epicure
We eat late, after
the heat in my
part of the bush,
with pleasure for
a home.
Cure for neuroses
My thinking, sick
and sorry all day,
cleared at night.
Tell me my name
and put me
out of mind.
Long hours
Office at home—
the pen and I eat
the night up.
Writing process
I set out in the morning
on a journey without any words
to a half acre of land where
I always have been.
Nonviolence
I answer a word as red as war
with play. We can act
like puppets, or be
content to be.
Oceanologist
I do not yet understand the sea.
A cunning fellow
can put on several faces,
but what world is this
without dissimulation
to meet a cliff and laugh?
The cost of free thought
In exchange for an absolute,
we pay interest on doubt.
I ink a letter to the thief
that stole a laugh.
Camp Jejune
In a tent I become
simple and quiet
with rice, unoriginal
and worn as a wit
seen twice.
Owl
Into an ear of owl
night fell,
ecclesiastical,
with great pain and love
for his supper.
Above the fray
Sick of the town-
talk, I hear
nothing hard,
my wits never
overtaken by
a fuddle of wool.
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