Classic Poem

I saw the half moon on his back,
The Great Bow of the stars go slack;
The houses like a fever chart
Shook with the beating of my heart
As I saw Sagittarius go
Slack, and the string slip from his bow:
Gold slid dripping; it went thus
Loosened and illustrious;
Exaggerated pines whose brittle
Branches burned with frosty spittle
Scratched gaps in the blue
Lucidity and let stars through,
Till it seemed the stars somehow
Spat and crackled at each bough;
Shadows with slow angry hair
Huddled on the breathing stair
Private to the moon and there
Roused the reminiscent dead
Chilled, uneasy, visited. . . .
Night crouched, cougar-wise,
A huge cat rocking behind his eyes.