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Discharged
our water grew better by night
thin and harmlessly sad
my book on mortality hit back
I was living in the dangerous part of town
I bled hope to ease myself
like a bed full of guns
Poems on the topic: book
Poems on the topic “book” on Poets.by.
Laid off
our work ending
what is time
are hands the new books
Soporific
white bread for dinner
in the house of sleep
my mind groping for the way
through the book in my hands
some great raw nothing
moving within me
Gloaming
with its yellow bird’s eye
the old garden
reading the book of night
Axe handles
books give thorough direction
for the binding of books
O make my whole study the same
binding my hand to my hand
as ear to auditor
or hope to that old ache
Heretic
the sages in my head
trouble me
and my books are ice
evening brought
an absence as old
as a horse in the rain
On the make
a while to wait
so I find love
see a fine woman and play
at being thoughtful
ready with a book
telling the beautifulest mouth
a pretty lie
Bookwormhole
entering my book
where to be gone to
who among others to love
in their poor varnish
how to see at night
Bibliomania
I fell into a hole of books
and everything
even my wife
happened as in a book
Environmentalist
I am out of pretty discourse
I go too far in censuring
I am certain that the world
is the true messiah
but what will change
my books open and open
thin membranes in a void
Window shopper
my breath in the window
of the bookseller’s
some books sing
some give me a home
Immanent
I am in all my books
and I am the same as the ague
knocking at my flesh
I am every interrupted part
coming at night to join
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