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

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

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

We wear the mask that grins and li
It shades our cheeks and hides our
This debt we pay to human guile
With torn and bleeding hearts…
We smile and mouth the myriad subt

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

When I think about myself,
I almost laugh myself to death,
My life has been one great big jok
A dance that’s walked
A song that’s spoke,

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

When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an att

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