I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.

I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.

I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,

But not to call me back or say good-by;
And further still at an unearthly height
One luminary clock against the sky

Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.

Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.

for Susan O'Neill Roe

What a thrill ----
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of hinge

Of skin,
A flap like a hat,
Dead white.
Then that red plush.

Little pilgrim,
The Indian's axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Carpet rolls

Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pink fizz. A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.

Whose side are they one?
O my
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to ****

The thin
Papery feeling.
Saboteur,
Kamikaze man ----

The stain on your
Gauze Ku Klux ****
Babushka
Darkens and tarnishes and when
The balled
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence

How you jump ----
Trepanned veteran,
***** girl,
Thumb stump.

a single dog
walking alone on a hot sidewalk of
summer
appears to have the power
of ten thousand gods.

why is this?

there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average
human being to supply any given army on any given day

and the best at ****** are those who preach against it
and the best at hate are those who preach love
and the best at war finally are those who preach peace

those who preach god, need god
those who preach peace do not have peace
those who preach peace do not have love

beware the preachers
beware the knowers
beware those who are always reading books
beware those who either detest poverty
or are proud of it
beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average

but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius in their hatred to **** you
to **** anybody
not wanting solitude
not understanding solitude
they will attempt to destroy anything
that differs from their own
not being able to create art
they will not understand art
they will consider their failure as creators
only as a failure of the world
not being able to love fully
they will believe your love incomplete
and then they will hate you
and their hatred will be perfect

like a shining diamond
like a knife
like a mountain
like a tiger
like hemlock

their finest art

Love's embrace, once gracing comfort,
Encased in blackest shadow slumbers
Through the sweetest, softest pleads
And leaves hearts heaving, wrought with need.

A creature's wail for understanding,
A confusing nuisance to the neighbor.
A gruesome scream all too demanding,
Taken lightly by a stranger.

If love could do a dove one favor
And reassure it of its safety,
Maybe she could quit her labor
And fall asleep just like a baby.

Though strong bonds ensure endurance,
A chirp unheard turns quick to hurting.
Deserted birds incur the worst things,
Left to wonder if it's deserved.

A foolish choice two hearts arrange,
Songbirds sing without an aim.
Love, which always starts with play
Ends mainly with its victims maimed.

That's just how it goes for most:
The greatest wave degrades the coast.
Still, we light potential tinder,
Hoping once, love stays for dinner.

You haven't quite lived till you've bred.
At least that's what my old doctor said.

He said, 'You haven't quite lived till you've greyed;
Not till youre weathered, abrasive, decayed,
Not till you've worked your own bones to the grave
And believe life's a grand play without meaning or make.

'Doctor, I feel bad,
Negative, scared.
Sometimes I don't bother
Brushing my hair.'

'Ah yes, I've seen this,
Many times before!
Clearly, you're INSANE! I implore you not to attempt a self refection.
You need my own intervention.'

He called my soul's crying a shocking anomaly.
He gave me these pills that 'will give me autonomy';
'You've got to be medicated in this **** economy.'

I got a new doctor, but that doctor ***** too.
Why does this happen to me? What should I do?