WEBVTT

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"Midnight Poem."

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The clouds rip and hemorrhage.

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Massive wounds twisted.

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Viscera unwinding.

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Little golden sheep
jump over my finger.

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There is a star so bright
and near to my elbow.

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It cannot be mentioned.

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I lay it in the grass like
a fish to keep it alive.

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The moon would run away,
astounded by the teeth

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of the coyotes in
his soft thigh.

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My friends, it is
much later now.

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The trees are still here.

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The clouds have risen
in pyramid, and died.

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My poem is like the water
dripping from the lampposts

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onto the shining
3 o'clock lawns.

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