Black ship of night sailing through the world & the moon an orange slice tangy to the teeth of lovers who lie

Sometimes the poem doesn’t want to come; it hides from the poet like a playful cat who has run

Because you did, I too arrange fl… Watching the pistils just like ins… And the hard, red flesh of the pet… Widening beneath my eyes. They mo… Of clocks, seeming not to move exc…

You hate the telephone but will not see me face to face so I am left beseeching you

You-the purest pleasure of my life, the split pit that proves the ripeness of the fruit,

Because she wants to touch him, she moves away. Because she wants to talk to him, she keeps silent. Because she wants to kiss him,

On line at the supermarket waiting for the tally, the blue numerals tattooed on the white skins

In Autumn, as in Spring, the sap flows, the sap wishes to race against heartbeats

Out in the world, the child cries for the mother as the wound cries for salt as the lover cries for her unrequited lover

Smoke, it is all smoke in the throat of eternity. . . . For centuries, the air was full of… Whistling up chimneys on their spiky brooms

I try to keep falling in love if only to keep death at bay.

After the teach-in we smeared the walls with our solidarity, looked left, & saw Marx among the angels,

I am happiest near the ocean, where the changing light reminds me of my death & the fact that it need not be…

You take me to the restaurant wher… plays God over a fish tank. The f… pace their green cage, waiting to… out of an element. Who knows what… There are thirteen in a tank meant