When I found the door I found the vine leaves speaking among themselves in abund… whispers. My presence made them

The moon is a sow and grunts in my throat Her great shining shines through m… so the mud of my hollow gleams and breaks in silver bubbles

The ache of marriage: thigh and tongue, beloved, are heavy with it, it throbs in the teeth We look for communion

This wild night, gathering the was…       &n bsp;   animal vines t…            slapping my face lightl…            in the gesticulations o… I recall out of my joy a night of…

The cat is eating the roses: that’s the way he is. Don’t stop him, don’t stop the world going round, that’s the way things are.

The old wooden steps to the front… where I was sitting that fall morn… when you came downstairs, just awa… and my joy at sight of you (emergi… into golden day—

In the Japanese tongue of the min…

Not the moon. A flower on the other side of the water. The water sweeps past in flood, dragging a whole tree by the hair, a barn, a bridge. The flower

This is the year the old ones, the old great ones leave us alone on the road. The road leads to the sea. We have the words in our pockets,

I like to find what’s not found at once, but lies within something of another nature… in repose, distinct.

We live our lives of human passion… cruelties, dreams, concepts, crimes and the exercise of virtue in and beside a world devoid of our preoccupations, free

A night that cuts between you and… and you and you and you and me: jostles us apart, a man el… through a crowd. We won’t look for each other, either–

Down through the tomb’s inward arc… He has shouldered out into Limbo to gather them, dazed, from dreaml… the merciful dead, the prophets, the innocents just His own age and…

Fully occupied with growing—that’s the amaryllis. Growing especially at night: it would take only a bit more patience than I’ve… to sit keeping watch with it till…