February 8, 1991 (I wa46)
This is the Night
This is the night long into the drought winter
I knew would give truth to summer’s lie
Goodness continues in a life too possessed to love it
It is the goodness of an un-chosen regimen
the discipline we have sold for the use of others
(however noble that use may be)
This is the night of cold fog and no moon
a dark draining of the California earth
in another year the sky refused to give the blood back
in another war of screaming allegiance and holy alliance
This is the night without evocative fragrance in the air
nor peaceful surf breaking its long warm heartbeat
beneath our bed in the moonlight of a summer
made eternal because we knew it would end
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