Midnight

luis

We sleep.
Pale moths fondle
late summer window screens, paper
bark birch owl ignites
our bedroom with amber eye-gleam, bats
drop -- black leaves
from the tree of night, stranded
in her dark house, our neighbor
sips whiskey to feel warm
again.
We sleep.
Poems
are forever
awake.

Comments

kathryn (not verified)

Every time I read this poem, I love it more and more. And that is saying something since I thought it was fantastique the first time I read it.

K

Sylvan Woman (not verified)

My mind rotates this poem a quarter turn to the left and reveals a normal EKG sequence.
Living, breathing poetry.

lakshmi (not verified)

I love it.
XXXOOO
La

John Saunders (not verified)

Luis. This is beautiful! You
capture the midnight scene.
At your house you sleep. The
person next door wants to be
warm again. Bats as leaves.
Gleam of eyes. And poems are
awake forever! "Midnight" and
a certain poem about Tomatoes
are two of the best that I have
devoured in recent days. Please
pray for rain. John Saunders

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Book club members have been some of my most enthusiastic and careful readers. I’m thrilled to share my work with you, answer your questions and tell you some of the stories behind the stories. This is our spot, just for us. Here, we can chat:  If I’m nearby, I’ll come and visit your club. Otherwise, we can Skype, talk over the phone or email. Sometimes, I’ll send surprises or hold contests.

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