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Here's one that I've been mulling over for days, getting to know more fully.
Ghazal
You sing, bird-small, from the reeds at night.
In search, I wet my sleeves at night.
A Cooper's hawk. A red-tailed fox.
One trots, one screams--through my dreams at night.
All we have lost is brightly lost.
What flames copper green? Our grief at night.
Tongue-dumb, I was born more rack than not;
the stars like sores I can see at night.
Gin-drunk, god-sick, and opossum-quiet,
if Daniel must go, he'll leave at night.
~ Daniel Johnson, 1973 -
To recite this poem is nearly to sing, so lyrical is the cadence of the words.
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