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

The highway is full of big cars
going nowhere fast
And folks is smoking anything that
Some people wrap their lies around
And you sit wondering

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

Your smile, delicate
rumor of peace.
Deafening revolutions nestle in th
cleavage of
your breasts

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

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

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

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

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

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,