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

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

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

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

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

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

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,

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

A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here

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

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

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

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

Soft grey ghosts crawl up my sleev… to peer into my eyes while I within deny their threats and answer them with lies. Mushlike memories perform