black poetry

though i am little as all little things
have we no shame?
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
since, if you stood by my side today
i think it just splendid
in all things not spoken of
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
when night drifts along the streets of the city
and so it goes
there by the window in the old house
from our hidden places