Five Points, Vol. 1 No. 1Fall 1996
From Louis Simpson: “When you’re writing, you really don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know how it’s going to come out. If you think you know, you may write a bad poem.”
Nightmares Fill With Light Like Holiday
So many nights cast to darkness
O, lovers no more, distillate sands,
body of milk flowing over.
Sun and moon, like night and day,
no longer share this room.
What you said once in the dead hour
gone without lantern through the night.
In those hours we ran to each other,
our hands towing us forward.
From one hand comes many in memory.
This was good, this despised.
But we have come to a settling,
our single direction two.
You see, so we have parted.
You see, what once was ignited
by one vision fire
no longer catches.