<div class="line">In corporate offices across the city,</div>
<div class="line">in every company’s cubicle-chambered heart,</div>
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="line">there are men alone all lunch hour: men</div>
<div class="line">who watch the tendons shifting in their hands</div>
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="line">as they type <em>love</em> over and over again—</div>
<div class="line">ring finger, ring finger, index, middle—softly,</div>
<div class="line"></div>
<div class="line">though, only barely touching the keys,</div>
<div class="line">never hard enough to light up the screen.</div>


Somewhere It’s Always Thanksgiving

The Astronomical Clock

The Great American Screenplay

<p class="epil"><em>—The fear of night or darkness.</em></p>
<div class="line">I’ll stay awake, stay up all night,</div>
<div class="line">Keep wide my eyes and cocked my ears;</div>
<div class="line">I’ll keep the whole damn room within my sight,</div>
<div class="line">The phone in my left hand, a gun in my right;</div>
<div class="line">I’ll lock up the doors and windows tight,</div>
<div class="line">Let no one, nothing get in here</div>
<div class="line">Until the shadows disappear,</div>
<div class="line">Until the morning brings a light,</div>
<div class="line">Until I can see what I should fear.</div>


Portrait of the Father as an Alcoholic

Fall

Nyctophobia

<div class="line">Another minivan abandoned off</div>
<div class="line">the off-ramp. Someone said <em>I’ve had enough</em></div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">and left, just left, and left the radio on</div>
<div class="line">and singing <em>baby, baby, you’re the one.</em></div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">And who is that when there is no one there?</div>
<div class="line">God, like everybody else, is scared</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">of everybody else, and trying to hide.</div>
<div class="line">So smoke. So black-winged drones. So so much light</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">at such strange angles that make the empty hand</div>
<div class="line">look full, look like a fist. Look out at the land.</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">It isn’t barren, so why does it feel so bare?</div>
<div class="line">The churches are full of people, so are the bars—</div>
<div></div>
<div class="line">the life’s work of the dead. So which lives matter?</div>
<div class="line">Ask the glass and blacktop; you’ll get no answer.</div>


Midday Heat: A Twenty-Stanza Renku

Poets Respond

Comfort

Landscape with Questions

Blowing a Kiss to My Sister

Who Am I

<p class="author"><em style="font-size: revert; color: initial; font-family: -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, 'Segoe UI', Roboto, Oxygen-Sans, Ubuntu, Cantarell, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif;">—The fear of the ocean.</em></p>
<div class="line">That there are depths you cannot know</div>
<div class="line2">and you could sink forever,</div>
<div class="line4">the water below</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">opening only to other water,</div>
<div class="line2">unlit undertow,</div>
<div class="line4">movement, tighter</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">circling shapes surrounding you,</div>
<div class="line2">all unknown edge and bitter</div>
<div class="line4">hunger, tooth</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">or tentacle or fin, all black</div>
<div class="line2">approaching through the blue,</div>
<div class="line4">the clinching wrack</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">of struggle, the final giving up</div>
<div class="line2">to the pressure and the dark,</div>
<div class="line4">that patient grip,</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">panic burnt down to a dull</div>
<div class="line2">and thoughtless ache, the slip</div>
<div class="line4">into the pull</div>
<div> </div>
<div class="line">of nowhere, bearing no hate, no wrath,</div>
<div class="line2">holding nothing at all,</div>
<div class="line4">not even your breath.</div><p></p>

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October 31, 2023NyctophobiaPatrick Ryan Frank

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October 31, 2023NyctophobiaPatrick Ryan Frank

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