A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since depart
Marked the mastodon,
The dinosaur, who left dried token
Of their sojourn here

A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing

Give me your hand
Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

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

We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of lonelines
until love leaves its high holy te
and comes into our sight

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

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleev
to peer into my eyes
while I within deny their threats
and answer them with lies.
Mushlike memories perform

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

I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.
Some declare their lives are lived

Beloved,
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your Hands
Your Laughter brave