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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tears The crystal rags Viscous tatters Of a worn-through soul Moans

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

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

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

We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight live coiled in shells of lonelines… until love leaves its high holy te… and comes into our sight

My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…