The Night Runner
With HER on his mind,
He runs out the not...
He runs out the not knowing...
He runs out the not knowing whether
He loves her...
And the good sweat
Is like
Blood in his veins
Is like
Turning the stars inside out,
Making their cool heat
Shine down, and through, and out of
Him...
As though he were transparent,
And,
Lungs stoking,
Breath smoking,
His eight counts in
And
His eight counts out,
Making the whole night half of the world
Breathe to his pulse...
He squeezes the stars in his
Pumping fists,
The prints of his feet leave
Shining marks,
He fades around a corner,
Turns into the Darkness,
And is seen...
No more...
1987
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