the man who writes at night

      i can see him
                in the window
   the man who writes at
             night

              relentless his
                     stabbing and 
        slashing, paper
              bleeds

    i feel sorry for it
                   and pull a swig from
         my sorrows

    the man keeps
          writing on
     in wretched jerks
               and fibulations
      relentless his
                 knife, his
         heart, paper
           bleeds

     i rub my
        vicarious wounds
           for it

        the man who writes at
           night
               finds blood
        at the end
             of his business
                   flushing it
           writes about---

        relentless his
               fever and bottle
       tearing, paper
           bleeds

         tides fall
                and i sleep
           for it