I would liken you
To a night without stars
Were it not for your eyes.
I would liken you
To a sleep without dreams
Were it not for your songs.

A poem walks with me
he knows me

when feeling alone
he gives me company

Like the dog at his walk
precedes his master
pulls the leash
faster…faster

keep pace with me
find peace in poetry

the two
side by side
break in sweats
the dog and his master
the two poets
forget

who runs who

merge into one

making a poem
fully done.

oh, I'm not
the greatest poet,
but I'm a poem
in my own right --
an artwork,
the sunset.
I can dress like summer
and talk
like shooting stars,
I can help you drown
or save you,
soothe
your fast-beating heart
with Irish songs
and get you drunk
on love
or wine.
perhaps you should
write me down
on post-it notes
that you leave
on the refrigerator door.
perhaps you should
love me forever.
I wrote you, too,
the best I could --
but my writing never was
much good.
I am not an artist.
I'm a work of art.
perhaps you should
put me in photo frames
that you put on your desk
and your bedside table, so
you'll never forget me.
perhaps you should
paint me
in fields of yellow roses.
perhaps you should
never let go.

-lights out-
fall, hands a-clasped, into instantaneous
ecstasy like a shot of ****** or morphine,
the gland inside of my brain discharging
the good glad fluid (Holy Fluid) as
i hap-down and hold all my body parts
down to a deadstop trance-Healing
all my sicknesses-erasing all-not
even the shred of a 'I-hope-you' or a
Loony Balloon left in it, but the mind
blank, serene, thoughtless. When a thought
comes a-springing from afar with its held-
forth figure of image, you spoof it out,
you spuff it off, you fake it, and
it fades, and thought never comes-and
with joy you realize for the first time
'thinking's just like not thinking-
So I don't have to think
any
more'

It was many and many a year ago,
  In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
  By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
  Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
  In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love—
  I and my ANNABEL LEE;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
  Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,
  In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
  My beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
  And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
  In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
  Went envying her and me—
Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,
  In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
  Chilling and killing my ANNABEL LEE.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
  Of those who were older than we—
  Of many far wiser than we—
And neither the angels in heaven above,
  Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE.

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And the stars never rise but I see the bright eyes
  Of the beautiful ANNABEL LEE;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
  In her sepulchre there by the sea—
  In her tomb by the side of the sea.