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

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

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

My man is Black Golden Amber Cha
Warm mouths of Brandy Fine
Cautious sunlight on a patterned r
Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi
Graceful turns on woolen stilts S

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,

They went home and told their wive
that never once in all their lives
had they known a girl like me,
But... They went home.
They said my house was licking cle

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

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 last love,
proper in conclusion,
should snip the wings
forbidding further flight.
But I, now,