I was looking for some spooky poems to put up for Halloween, and found something old and something new.
[I’m into snippeting; I hope you don’t mind]
…the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread upon my dreams.
Also, a snippet from a Paisley Rekdal poem, found on poets.org:
the muddled air and keen
like supersonic babies, the sound
we imagine empty wombs might make
in women who can’t fill them up.
read the rest of that poem here.