two poems for today

Poem 1:

Brahms in the drum of the bedroom,
piano prays to ceiling-beams.
It’s just now 11 AM
And you’re crying?

Hair clutters more sinks
than you realize. It’s OK,
wash the body; thousands of red things
turn on themselves in the dark.

To want to wash clean
in a stoneless river, to want nothing,
not even Brahms, think:
drains would be less your star-dust, skin.

It’s OK, it’s just now 11 PM.

Poem 2:

The essential thing has been stolen.
A monk crawls into night,
Worships a moon
in secret. He knows
You are missing.

The field awoke
in him a tree, hope-
birds wet, tangled,
out of nest. He forgets
how to bar the door with his whole weight.

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