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,

Pretty women wonder where my secre
I’m not cute or built to suit a fa
But when I start to tell them,
They think I’m telling lies.
I say,

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

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

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

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

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

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

He bad
O he bad
He make a honky
poot. Make it honky’s
blue eyes squint

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