night – other animals

light blue dark blue sky peppered stars
the dog lingers sniffs a neighbor’s
pumpkin and music from somewhere
far or near I once loved the feel
of night on my body wanders
under what little light comes through
though I still haven’t found it

the way the night gloveless treats this body full of holes

(First published in Under the Basho.)

what hope in this pen and an ink
nearly invisible
earlier the morning sun on
the trees made me think of
large mammals and their humid scent
in the sun in the grass
the countable galaxies of
bright dew and now the chair
makes sarcastic music of my
musing but the night is
still and so wide without a moon

those little hopes for the
weekend with green softness
over the lawn insects

float or dart the breeze
was so important that

it might keep me up tonight
I know it’s not your problem

the pickles came out so well

you know the darkness
catches up before
summer really gets
going I should stop
saying you know you
know anywhoo the

last time we spoke
you were spitting
in the eye of
a hurricane

it’s always the way when the days get less
generous with their light and walking the
dog you see furry legs in the trees and
a noise near or far you choose to ignore

some noisy manner

of machine humming all night

makes me hate my neighbors—

I almost said plight

music from an escaping dream or an undigested night in which we finish the great & clever expense reports designed to ensnare the accountant of the faerie king

the poem of night

waiting for the

right weight to

fall and make a

sigh don’t look

at me but

at the sky

motorcycle noise at night cool after the storm with crickets and my neighbor’s creaking floor through my ceiling chamomile tea

If/Then

if fire cracks the mirror
then clouds may part to reveal her face

if night passes like a kidney stone
then the box is returned unopened

if the damp gets irrevocably in
then an unequivocal answer will be found

if the suburbs are raided
then your recipe will be forever changed

if we ignore first principles
then insects will tire of carrying us

as I write with one foot
stuck in dark mud the other

unresponsive for reasons
I can’t discover lights

flicker throughout the day I’m
more full of fewer thoughts with

air enough for me to ascend
the brilliant sharp mountain

I have kept my pockets empty for
I have kept my back straight against through

years of small work and I
see the check on its way

before I’ve ordered it’s my fault
I should have gotten here as soon as

the neighbors finished dancing
on our ceiling and the sky

changed to business casual blue so with
my knuckles sore I crack another nut

but what if one thought survives
somehow the pressure of space

as the small stones crawl from the sea
wall after the grey is gone

and we work into the overhyped
night sponsored by what you would rather

remember a castle visited
through a dream that always asks too much