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

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…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Funky blues Keen toed shoes High water pants Saddy night dance Red soda water

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

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,

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