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

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

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

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

The night has been long,
The wound has been deep,
The pit has been dark,
And the walls have been steep.
Under a dead blue sky on a distant

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

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

Tears
The crystal rags
Viscous tatters
Of a worn-through soul
Moans

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