A beast stands at my eye.
I cook my senses in a dark fire.
The old wombs rot and the new mother
Approaches with the footsteps of a world.
Who are the people of this unscaled heaven?
Whose blood hallows this grim land?
What slithers along the watershed of my human sleep?
The other side of knowing .
Caress of unwaking delight .
A sufficient love! O gently silent forms
Of the last spaces.
| Best Poems | Short Poems
Email Poem |
Top Kenneth Patchen Poems