Stiff, clerkly, he swept by me.
Staring straight ahead strangely:
Leaving the urinal for the fifth or sixth
Time that night and still alone.
He who probably for years had rejected
This Last, most despised of all releases,
Now himself by it to be rejected
Surely must almost craze.
Fearing for him, I followed;
Yet stung only further by my pity
He would not stop. Since that night
I have not seen him again.
You hear this calling.A bird
again and again.
Again and again. What sign
can I give to myself?
What is the night, to such
a calling bird?
Again and again. I ask
to speak only to myself.
You hear this calling.A bird
again and again.
Again and again, Now I
listen to be hearing.
Again and again, The voice
falls off of me, found dumb.
You hear this calling. You hear
this calling Again and again.
maybe i am crazy, since probable nobody else
is up, at 3 a m,eating chicken gizzards
and reading raymond chandler
after having gone thru all the mail that's hung around
for the past ten years, cutting off stamps
for anna's kid's collection. i found out, anyway,
that joan o'malley for ten years never used stamps
w/ pictures, but only those purple threes
(it was threes then). which goes to show you.
i have carefully avoided mention of any harpies
that might still be on the firescape. i meticulously throw out old
dried out rubber bands. if i can manage it
i'll pull out the bed & put on a fitted sheet
not that you'll notice, one way or the other
Yes, she is the beautiful night
So lovely a night the stars get lost in her,
And yet from her wrists and lips unwind
The perilous dimes lost in subways--
A spiral of effluvia
We recognize as history--
The Israelites
Must battle the Arabs
Far from the moon's bright garden
In whose center blooms
The insomniac rose
And yet
She is the night of beauty
The angel whose name
Lifts the wet grass
And topples the insect gently
Through the thickest parts
of night's veins
we crawled
clinging to each other,
but you still cannot see
my animals have died at your door.
You will not let me impale my hunger
on your razor stare.
You cannot hear my bones
crying to you.
Nothing can connect me to you.
We drop into craters of time,
rock jaws sleeping in serpent skin.
In the tangled music of
broken shadows we
strangle our lives
Deep'sky
Nights as a kid
Eyelids peeled
I've forgotten more
Drifting down the staggered lights
Than you'll ever know
Rhubarb, pieces of eight
Feet in the air
And the more I see
IQ getting filmy
Car lengths at a time
The more I see
Surface tension, rimfire
I need my fingers to be careful with
The more uncomfortable I get
Red hued coloured skies
The bronze horizons twinkle
Skeletal branches
I can't eat
I can't sleep
when I'm just thinking
about how you hurt me
it's that time of night
when you truly realize
how alone you are
it's those late night talks
those midday walks
that I miss the most
As the world is engulfed in darkness
as the moon comes out to play
as the sun's fire fades
as the stars illuminate the world
as the predators awaken
as the prey falls asleep
as I gaze outside
as the fragile Earth disappears.
There I go again
Staring at the endless black sky,
Hoping my tears will go away.
The chill from the open window
Enters inside,
Reminding me of
The far away.
Oh how I wish
I could be there,
Far away from where I am.
The rain is slowly pouring,
Peeking inside from the
Small gap between the windows.
It caresses my face,
Almost asking for help.
I look at the cars