Aral
it was the sea not a ship
that was lost
a thing as imaginable as a great plain
going out
what mad sort of testimonies
the seamen give
forced to work on a highway
that would only stop
Poems on the topic: loss
Poems on the topic “loss” on Poets.by.
Robbed out
to see night in a safe
we open it a little
poor old miners
troubled to find no ore
After the flood
mold in my closet
and all my clothes lost
her fine linen green
as water
that run-away bride
At a loss
to whom might it call
her hair of red silk
no Christ is ever as light
as a private joy
that comes to be
more than pleasure
the country
where now is
not staying there
but breaking up
we put on other clothes
full of morning
who would not
who could not take
that loss
Neglectful
last night in sleep I lost my papers
my morning
my change
my dinner
my cover
my head
and my sons that are nothing
like me
Sad times
I wake by 4:00 o’clock
to any day but my own
here a forest here a clearing
here a dead body and his imp of a fly
it is midsummer in the country of grief
nothing is done but trade
dinner for dinner
a fancy tune for a glass
and sorry for however
present a loss
I hear that Parliament is against
the scandal of nature
which if too much provoked
shall go to bed
Typhoon
The wages of the sea, fair or foul,
will be the undoing
of thousands they could not find,
a missed church,
the last reading of the night…
In practice
I practice loss,
lousy as a fool in
the king’s favor leaving
his things in
an open grave.
Strange to hear all
the murderers of a pint
part for home.
Listen
No purse, the ear
will know
what to do.
Sometimes at sea,
a great loss
would go away on the wind
in the quiet of things.
Pub Crawler
I go home to din and wit
as sin to church.
Here, walk with me.
Tell me we all like to lose.
Seeker
Things I miss, I do not find.
Things I find, I eat—
an essential tragedy—
and in eating, lose.
Things I take, I talk to, late
in my unquiet bed.
Ad Man
In a bed of oysters
I am secure as death
and in the arms of a severe knight
I find sure sales,
there being nothing
in any man’s mind
but the pleasure of loss.
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