Eyes Deep

flighty windswept raven hair and
eyes deep
like black rudimentary soil,
mischievous, wildroot dimples,
lips full of the harvest moon…

O child of the weathered earth and the feathered sky,
you speak to me in tumultuous,
windblown words jittering with sentiment…
I dance and swirl in dirt and breeze
crying to the Heavens to let me
discover you.

poem by Zoe Nyght
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Heaven in these limbs

There was a tambourine in your shoulder,
drums in your feet and a guitar in your heart.

You seem angry, little boy,
haven’t you accepted God?

Pulsing deep black in the dead of night
we jump, lusting for the wine of our idols.

You’re going to Hell, girl,
for all your dancing and sin.

And when our remains fall to the scattered earth
the worms will fight over the same flesh.

poem by Zoe Nyght
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a tribute to the Absurd

Happiness is a ballpoint pen
Happiness is irrelevant
Happiness is talk
Life is running out of ink
Life is waterfalls and irrelevance!
and Godot
Life is waiting
Life is post-modernism
Loneliness is too much
ink
is happiness it is falling water it is
irrelevant life is
unsensical but musical
abusical defensible
Someday I will write about relevance
someday someday someday
point: waterfalling ball___ pen = someday ink
someday ink is my lonely happy outness

poem by Zoe Nyght
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Reading Writing Rich

Always after reading
poetry
I fly like ducks for life

poetry is my season for love

a fat girl goes by and
I wonder what it is like
to walk so full
as she must wonder what it is like
to run so empty
(what do our bodies mean?)
I cant tell her: read poetry

you will see a boy with spiky hair
and a gallant stride

and it won’t matter
about full or empty
or if you are tired

[...] Read more

poem by Zoe Nyght
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Poem-eyes

You’re a walking poem
and it’s like I have night vision
except instead of goggles they are
poem-eyes:
only I can see you,
your arms and legs strings of sentences
bare with candid sincerity,
your hair tangled weaknesses
curled with a simile
and eyes of endearing desire
marked with a metaphor,
poetic sentiment hanging off you
like unwashed clothes.
Your mouth breathes out symbolism,
when you walk, the line breaks jingle
and when you hug me I can feel myself
being wrapped in a charming mystery
that sounds so pretty when read aloud.
When you stop, I stop
and gather all the fallen words

[...] Read more

poem by Zoe Nyght
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