Rose Red’s hair is brown as fur and shines in firelight as she pre… supper of honey and apples, curds… for the bear, and leaves it ready on the hearth-stone.

My wedding-ring lies in a basket as if at the bottom of a well. Nothing will come to fish it back… and onto my finger again.        &nb sp;       &nbs…

A doll’s hair concealing an eggshell skull delicately throbbing, within which maggots in voluptuous unrest jostle and shrug. Oh, Eileen, my

High in the jacaranda shines the g… of a small bird’s curlicue of song… for her to see or hear. I’ve learned not to say, these last years,

At sixteen I believed the moonlig… could change me if it would.           I moved my hea… on the pillow, even moved my bed as the moon slowly

White dawn. Stillness.When the ri…       &nbs p;   I took it for…       &nb sp;   of salt, of tr… didn’t stir; the leaves of my brot… unmoving.

The flowerlike animal perfume in the god’€™s curly hair '€” don’€™t assume

Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appearrs, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted ...

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

The red eyes of rabbits aren’t sad. No one passes the sad golden village in a barge any more. The sunset will leave it alone. If the

Brilliant, this day '€“ a young vi… Morning shadow cut by sharpest sci… deft hands. And every prodigy of g… whether it’s ferns or lichens or n… or impatient points of buds on spi…

Those groans men use passing a woman on the street or on the steps of the subway to tell her she is a female and their flesh knows it,

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.

Some people, no matter what you give them, still want the moon. The bread, the salt,