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

Give me your hand
Make room for me
to lead and follow
you
beyond this rage of poetry.

Beloved,
In what other lives or lands
Have I known your lips
Your Hands
Your Laughter brave

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

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

I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Some of us are serious,
some thrive on comedy.
Some declare their lives are lived

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

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

She came home running
back to the mothering blackness
deep in the smothering blackness
white tears icicle gold plains of
She came home running