At midnight, a heart Hums

~
In the center
of the city—

no-moon, no-stars
erases all traces
of a day’s light.

Second story buildings
soak up the new
night’s ink

become the emptiness
you want to lean against.

~ ~

No greater feeling
than time

creating sounds
so intense ghost moths

open, not in midnight,
but in you

Collections

You read, for sorrow, for a witness
to explain a sister’s death. 

You drive a car past a cemetery
stop long enough to leave three
short songs—

you read Wright,
count your blessings,
learn when poets were
as beautiful as only the rich
can be.

You read Vallejo when it’s raining,
thinking you too shall die
on a Thursday

like sister
did

Tim J Brennan is a 1983 UW-Eau Claire grad. His poetry has appeared in Twig, Up North, The Lake, and Talking Stick. His plays have been staged in Milwaukee, Colorado Springs, and most recently in Taos, New Mexico. Read more from Tim.