the night is weird and wild

i enter it on tippy toes

i find it via a map of evening

the night is tonight

the night of long knives

the night of the panther

daylight long since gone

i appease my hunger with shadow

i fill my throat with echo

i go down to the night waiting offshore

the night is freezing and rubbing its hands

the dirty wind is full of cold grit

the night whistling up some alley

the night wide awake and dressed up in stars

the night is out back of a bar

the night squeezes in under your door

the night in the house where everything moves

the night in the house where everything still

the poet is nervous

his anxiety crushing

the night is more than his poor head can take

the white icing of moonlight falls on his pillow

the eyes of the night one thousand in all

the flowers expire their breath in their vases

a cat screeches outside but drowned in the wind

nothing tastes good in the seaside cafe

the waitress seems like shes got the moon in her eyes

a man comes in he looks like a monster

another man comes in he looks like a freak

a third man joins them with the face of a crab

something strange has come down on this city

and it walks abroad flagrantly real

the end of the road and the end of our fun

i smash at the hands clinging to me

i go to a doctor who gives me a needle

i go to a whore who gives me an hour

i go to a bakery and blow all my bread

i go to a nightclub as plain as the day

i go to a meeting hi my names steven

and i am addicted to the night so dark

and i lurk in its belly and i run through its prism

and i watch the minutes turn into years

wee small hours linger in crystal

and the children grow up

and the summer is gone