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

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

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

Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation

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

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

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…

My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…

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

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

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