NIGHT

Night is a stricken bird whose breast is laid against the earth, Whose broken wings both comfort and surround the compassed air. Night is a fallen sparrow boys have stoned in spending small Or token sums of their vast wealth’s amazing cruelty. Night is a stricken bird whose heart has throbbed against my own, Whose broken wings have brushed my cheek, whose beak has hit my lip. Night is a restless fellow gone to bed, who cannot sleep, Yet will not rise to walk the parks and barter with desire. Night is all the sewers of a frustrate mind Spewing up positioned nudes inseminating one another!