Now is the Dreadful Midnight
by Paul Goodman

Now is the dreadful midnight you
have to do what you want to do

not by your will which is afraid
but by my hand upon you laid.

My hand withheld almost too long
moves by lust, its grip is strong

and callous, it has turned to fire
the arpeggios of a lyre

and we love carelessly
who gravely love Saint Harmony.

Resist not, nor can you resist, the cries
that in your bowels rise

while I to song shall modify
and neither of us will ever die.