Posts Tagged ‘ night ’

after cummings and a moon

 

Isn’t it just

A moon?

Varyly big

Is only in sky

Behind the

Glowing and

Unlit clouds

It moves

Through

And all

The color

Now of

Darkest

Blue

On edges

White lined

Seems to,

Little by

Very little

Move.

It is a wish

Unwished

And pulled

From the

Candled now

Of sky

And I have

Given it to

You

And you

Have given

It its name:

A full

And round

And lovely

Moon.

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At Night

What did I whisper

While you were not

Awake, and waited

For you to answer

Anyway, your long

White hand, my hand

Upon your knee, and

Slept and slept and

Slept in sheets with me?

 

 

And what did whispering

Affect while you slept

In sheets, through sheets,

On sheets with me, your

Long white hand, my

Hand upon your knee?

The Immortality of Animals and Human Dust

 

1

Above us          the choking gray

Sky      looms.

Tonight            

            In bed

            With you

 

            I would             crush

            The velvet

            Star over          us

                        With     lush

                                    Kisses,

                                                Wet

                                                            As womb

 

                                                And      trees,

                                                            Each limb         green

                                                            As it

                                                            Touches           us-

 

                                                                                    Green

                                                                                                As it    

                                                                                                Bends

                                                                                                To drunken      

                                                                                    Leaves.

 

2

I love                the feeling of

Black   mahogany

Breaking

            Sound, but

            Making love

 

            Enormous         branches

            Moving in

            Wind

                        Creak   in

                                                Bed

 

                                                Waiting

                                                            To once

                                                            Grow leaves     again

                                                            Recrossing        each

                                                                                    Other

                                                                                                And other

                                                                                                Destroying

                                                                                                Each other        or

                                                                                                                        Over taking

                                                                                                                        Others

                                                                                                            Without sound.

 

 

3

I can                 see myself in

Front    of a

Mirror

            Waiting

            For a wrinkle

            To appear,

 

            A hair               to turn gray

            And fall

                        Out.

 

                                    The possibility

                                                            Of youth

                                                            Is a

                                                            Wafer              

                                                                        On my

                                                                        Tongue.           Her

 

                                                                                                Before

                                                                                                Me

                                                                                                Wandering.

 

                                                                                                Anyway,

 

                                                                                                It is there-

                                                                                                Standing

                                                                                    Between her legs

 

                                                                                    Until

                                                            My tears are rain,

                                                                                    Until

                                    My breath is wind,

                                                                                    Until

I am dirt again.