the morning speeds to a full stop
lands in the park
and lights a cigarette—
still fifteen minutes to burn
and then noon
the train comes along, drops
through the darkness
and forgets—
till five o'clock returns
and the news
night wakes with a gong
rings bells in the brain
and runs off shouting—
sleep dresses itself
and wakes, shaking
skies ricochet downward, prong
ciliate streaks of rain
with gun shells routing—
a mad head on a shelf
laughs, breaking
now the moon blankets over the dead
the warmth their lover bodies were denied
they lie on alien bed
who failed to live
who tried, whose eyes are wide
to heaven knows what stars
what glories fugitive
o tell me mars
to every action
is there an equal
and opposite reaction
black sun
the night is white, ah strange
the world I knew grown changed
for sun is black with days
I can not see amazed