Death's Door (audio only)
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More by this poet
The Hug
It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined
Half of the night with our old friend
Who'd showed us in the end
To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.
Already I lay snug,
And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.
2009
Black Jackets
In the silence that prolongs the span Rawly of music when the record ends, The red-haired boy who drove a van In weekday overalls but, like his friends, Wore cycle boots and jacket here To suit the Sunday hangout he was in, Heard, as he stretched back from his beer, Leather creak softly round his neck and chin. Before him, on a coal-black sleeve Remote exertion had lined, scratched, and burned Insignia that could not revive The heroic fall or climb where they were earned. On the other drinkers bent together, Concocting selves for their impervious kit, He saw i
1994
The Man with Night Sweats
I wake up cold, I who Prospered through dreams of heat Wake to their residue, Sweat, and a clinging sheet.
1994