Tag: night

diary (20210410)

crow4 Comments

last night was windy
not so windy that any trees
came down
not near our house anyway
and there wasn’t much
to move out of the road
a few sticks
a few small branches
pine cones

today the sea was dark
not wine dark
and while there are whales
near
it did not bring to mind
the whale-path or swan-road
instead the water looked
dirty from a distance
churning up whatever
blew into her all-accepting embrace

tonight the sky is dark
time for a new moon
(as if the old one
isn’t good enough
or worn out–look at the holes!)
and even the stars seem
buried in that darkness
rather than shining through it

now
not much to clear from my mind
a few creaking trees
a little foam
starlight

two voice choir (20180123)

crow13 Comments

the night sky makes a sound
a two voice choir singing
a growl of cars on the freeway
the belching of a jet
invisible overhead somewhere
between black
star-isolating expanses

it is the same sound i hear
in my head
one ear roaring
the other ringing
the darkness similar
only not so big
but bigger

scissors (20170516)

crow3 Comments

the invisible woman repeats numbers
like those soviet radio stations

my head fills with curvilinear
whorls of snail shells and fingerprints

the smell of cigarette smoke that is not
from a cigarette seeps into my garage

as i put clothes in the laundry basket–
–this night is coming to a close

and i am still knotted up like a boy
scout’s shoelaces

it will take a sharp pair of scissors
to release me

sunken eyes (20170423)

crow12 Comments

the bird sings the night sky
fading blues to pinks to
the solitary color of its heart

three trills, short
one cry, long
a heartbeat separated by chambers
struck out of order
a solitary sound of night

listen
the rustle of feathers
listen
the quiet of parting leaves
the river of the freeway
the black heart beating

——

It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 23

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wet sidewalks (20170118)

crow6 Comments

in the rain a cyclist passes
unprepared for the sudden showers
an orange ember glowing
at the end of his cigarette

petrichor and marlboro lights
and i am ten
and the streets are wet
and black except for the
sodium cyclops eyes of streetlamps
home has that familiar smell
and nicotine-stained curtains