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

A Rock, A River, A Tree
Hosts to species long since depart
Mark the mastodon.
The dinosaur, who left dry tokens
Of their sojourn here

One innocent spring
your voice meant to me
less than tires turning
on a distant street.
Your name, perhaps spoken,

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

We, this people, on a small and lo
Traveling through casual space
Past aloof stars, across the way o
To a destination where all signs t
It is possible and imperative that

Pretty women wonder where my secre
I’m not cute or built to suit a fa
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,

He bad
O he bad
He make a honky
poot. Make it honky’s
blue eyes squint

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

Beloveds, now we know that we know
Without notice, our dear love can
In the instant that Michael is go
Though we are many, each of us is
Only when we confess our confusion

Some clichty folks
don’t know the facts,
posin’ and preenin’
and puttin’ on acts,
stretchin’ their backs.