Jan 31 - Nacht Poem #2

the moon alone
if the moon holds me
in his arms just above my windowsill
scattershot air and not much more under my feet
and no compass to me
then who holds me?
No one. No anyone.
no compass to me
thick with clotted leaves
I float out over the roof, the gutters- what a word for me!
the afterimage of the moon I see when I shut my eyes
til it fades to true black
the bodies under the blankets make moraines
the radiator boils like rain
and in the dark I can feel the corners
and the walls I cannot see

February 1, 2010

Jan 30th - the Banshee

the bed the bed
the bed is never warm enough
the banshee wails
the tires of trucks miles distant
like mist from the highway
the banshee wails
I'm always here I'm never here
I've never been here I'm not coming back
to the whine of the tires
the dour face in the window
the breath of the cars
the wail the wail
the banshee
the bed


January 31, 2010
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