January 4

comments 8


Every night has in it
a bit of every other night.
That’s the secret.


These are not blue walls
but they could be, might
as well be, given how
little else has changed–

these curtains can go
hang themselves.


And it’s trees instead
of the cathedral
beyond thick panes–

and double, here,
to better staunch a draft


Light at night
is not itself either,
not entirely,

like a thought,
it carries further
than you’d expect


And expect is what
got us into this,

or compare,
like putting an ocean
nowhere against some other
ocean nowhere

only the night
is more constantly


Which is not at all
to say blank.


  1. I liked the imagry very much but I wasn’t sure about cathedral reference. Is this about feelings regarding the end of a love? It was some what mysterious and I concidered several other interpretations. I look forward to reading your other poems.


  2. First stanza is perfect. The rest are enlightening as well, with your typical wonderful tiptoe balance between high structures of thought, but–I might have been too impressed with the first stanza to pay them proper attention. I think I am burning incense to your first stanza. I think I have candles lit in honor of your first stanza. But—the moon just rose over your first stanza and made my little sacrifices seem quite stingy.


  3. It really does take a great deal to move me to tears, but this poem does. I’m serious. I was surprised, it was such a spontaneous response. It is beautifully written, structured, expressed, of course. We have come to expect that. But this poem is intensely moving. Very special. My thanks.


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