Not All for Love
The sound of the unpicking of a lock
Makes silence.
Resume the dark,
Relume the light;
Leave the pillow of everyday
Where time sleeps every night
And you,
Only at intervals.
Move away the parchments
Of love’s casuistry
That waive at the wind by day
Like spiders’ webs,
And by night fall into sleeplessness.
Go relume the dark,
Resume the light;
Go reclaim yourself
For love.
Anniversary of Light
You lie across me
Like the shadow of my light
And like the invisible voice of the milkyway
Your voice
Absorbs my saying.
What am I then,
Save a lonely pilgrim
Misted by the dust of light
On the orbit of Pluto?
Watchers: 9 pm
Squat,
In its girth of light
The lighthouse hunts the sky
At night.
Slender effigies of light
Change
The syntax of black and white,
Surf and sea:
Little boats angling for the night.
I sit beside a lighthouse
Looking out
To a deep yellow brevity of light,
Beyond the breakers,
And wonder
Who is more benighted.
Watchers: Midnight
We need eyes to lay on the night,
But the night tells us that we are merely eyes
That shall not see longer than this night.
Watchers: 2 am
The governance of terrestrial night:
Public,
Like the mute cicada
Under the song of the window frame.
Private,
Like a "not here" sign on an open door.
The mouth puckered,
The old sky open-mouthed,
Its nose stopped with clouds,
Its heart clouded with shadows.
The sky has become a wallpaper to terrestrial night.
A dark reflects
A dark.
Watching is light.
Watchers: 4 am
Sharpness.
Sentences without fullstops of light
Have a sharpness
Like that of night before dawn.
Once upon a time the dark was different,
So the light was different.
Light cut to the quick glowed like the dark.
Watchmen will uproar with the night
On the frontiers of silent suns.
A night reaches up to the sun
Through all the earth of day.
