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

There are some nights when sleep plays coy, aloof and disdainful. And all the wiles that I employ to win

Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water

Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press

I keep on dying 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

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 sun has come. The mist has gone. We see in the distance... our long way home. I was always yours to have.

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

When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence

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

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

You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,