look for me at night
A poem by Craig Kirchner

look for me at night

On a couch made of clouds,
like a mist in a dream,
it will come to you,
and you will hasten.

In shoes made of dusk,
running headlong into the dark,
trampling unseen,
out of control, toward an intuition.

Stars crisp against the black sky,
will melt the brown,
low clouds like butter,
the worm moon will point you to my ashes.

About the Author:

Craig Kirchner thinks of poetry as hobo art, loves storytelling and the aesthetics of the paper and pen. He has had two poems nominated for the Pushcart, and has a book of poetry, Roomful of Navels. Craig houses 500 books in his office and about 400 poems in a folder on a laptop. These words tend to keep him straight. After a hiatus he has recently been published in several dozen journals.

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