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

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…

FOR DAVID P—B The eye follows, the land Slips upward, creases down, forms The gentle buttocks of a young Giant. In the nestle,

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

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

We were entwined in red rings Of blood and loneliness before The first snows fell Before muddy rivers seeded clouds Above a virgin forest, and

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

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

Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press

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

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,

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

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