The Shape of Night


Here’s a poem of mine which contains the word  “heard” :

The Shape of Night


In the middle of the night

when the air is filled with water

and I swim in a dark pool of sleep,

in the deepest part of that forest

there is something

that doesn’t have a name.

I wake because I heard

someone calling that name

inside me.

In this forest

which grew where I did not plant it,

or plan it,

I swim in a green cellar,

breathing water,

diving deeply

into my name.


In this dream

I sew my poem to God

inside my clothes,

my night clothes,

like Blaise Pascal.

The paper rubs

against my chest

like a dry mustard plaster,

getting soft

as cloth again.




<a href="">Heard</a>


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