One innocent spring your voice meant to me less than tires turning on a distant street. Your name, perhaps spoken,

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…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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,

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

Your skin like dawn Mine like musk One paints the beginning of a certain end. The other, the end of a

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,