Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone

Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud

I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,

I keep on drying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,

When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence

Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city

There is no warning rattle at the… nor heavy feet to stomp the foyer… Safe in the dark prison, I know t… light slides over the fingered work of a toothless

She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running

I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry

When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the stre… Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always

Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts

Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation

FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,