Keeping it real
my sensible pen has taken
to making things little
till night wrote me
a multitude of aches
Poems on the topic: night
Poems on the topic “night” on Poets.by.
Looking back
night calls me to myself
an earful of old pain
two loves have I
and only one pocket
arson is a pretty house
with ingenious chemistry
Pimp
the pleasure merchant
in his gold-buttoned suit
is only gentle alone late at night
a bottle to fill with wine
Vicarious
I tend to my desire
with pictures of hands
like a tar merchant
greedy for the night
Face to face
looks hide the whole face
but in bed we could see
and all night a cold wind
blowing through the windows
The News at Four A.M.
I wake to a slow dripping
outside my window,
click on the news,
then remember
the recycling has to go out.
My feet find
the path without
a flashlight. I wade
through faintly visible fog,
a soundproof room
inhabited by the automatic
lusts of insects.
Halfway to the road,
I come to a halt.
There in the darkness
at my feet,
Senescence
the deep age of this day
ending with a company of ills
no satisfied walking in the garden
no talking god
no age could make
better evening at night
Housekeeper
she has fish on the table
and little time to little purpose
taking little notice
of the little green yard
and the night like any money
will call things into question
and everywhere the people
being forced to sell their ills
Unfaithful
we met in the cook house
night after lying night
at the cost of finding hate
for what hurt
all old jealousy
made worse
Sleeping on it
lay long
talking about order
a rose collecting
an alphabet
night perfected
at night
Civvies
a night vision
of things after the war
other places call
out of uniform
Dinner date
dinner in a can
I listen for company’s sake
to the night sea
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