Night is a stricken bird whose breast is laid against the earth, Whose broken wings both comfort and surround the compassed air. Night is a fallen sparrow boys have stoned in spending small Or token sums of their vast wealth’s amazing cruelty. Night is a stricken bird whose heart has throbbed against my own, Whose broken wings have brushed my cheek, whose beak has hit my lip. Night is a restless fellow gone to bed, who cannot sleep, Yet will not rise to walk the parks and barter with desire. Night is all the sewers of a frustrate mind Spewing up positioned nudes inseminating one another! _FOR ALL HEROES_ Here are the guys who have died for the world, Died for the battles in which they were hurled, Died for the flags that have long since been furled, And on this cross, Christ! Here are the bastard, expendable lot, Here are the laughs when the laughter is not, Here are the guys who are always forgot, And on this cross, Christ! Look, you! Behold through the beard and the blood, The face of the lover inflamed with the crud; See the strong limbs that lie still in the mud. Look on the red lips that open no more. What does it matter by what gods they swore? War’s the procurer and here lies his whore! What can you say to a guy when he’s dead? Kneel down beside him, lift up his head? Thank what you thank it was not you instead? And on this cross? God love you and keep you, you son of a bitch, Scratching your ass or wherever you itch, Restless in sleep as you jump and you twitch. Go, when you’re called from your haunts and your sports; Go, be a number in battle’s reports. Drown your desires and shoot in your shorts Take up your rifle and take up your clip, Take the canteen and water you’ll sip. You’ve got a class that you don’t want to skip, As on this cross, Christ! _FOXHOLE_ Your nearness thundered through me and I shook, And when you said, “You’re trembling.” I said, “Yes.” And then you asked, “Ya scared?” What could I say? We two had been together since the States And I had kept the bluff and we were friends. Why, I remember how it was we met. We both were standing naked. You were soaped From head to foot and then the shower quit. I never heard a rhythmic stream of words So finely mouthed, and chewed and spitted out But now we lie together in the sand Upon a tropic beach. The enemy, For all our air and sea and boasted might, Had held his little island and opposed Our coming with such surety of aim That half our comrades dropped face down, face up, And did not feel the black and blooded wash That played between their sprawled and spreaded legs.