This rain has stopped, and the moon has come out.
I don’t understand the first thing about radio
waves. But I think they travel better just after

The nights are very unclear here.
But if the moon is full, we know it.
We feel one thing one minute,

He slept on his hands.
On a rock.
On his feet.

Now that you’ve gone away for five days,
I’ll smoke all the cigarettes I want,
where I want. Make biscuits and eat them

They’re alone at the kitchen table in her friend’s
flat. They’ll be alone for another hour, and then
her friend will be back. Outside, it’s raining—

What a rough night! It’s either no dreams at all,
or else a dream that may or may not be
a dream portending loss. 

Where this floated up from, or why,
I don’t know. But thinking about this
since just after Robert called

Drawing paper down from the cupboard           sky
goes in at the top             scribble scrabble
green line grass for the bottom             filling

Tonight I hear machines at their dark work in the dark, I understand 
the sound they make among the gaps between the trees 

And there, on the machine’s edge, the outrage
of the tiniest rusty star