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

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

You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you?

When you come to me, unbidden, Beckoning me To long-ago rooms, Where memories lie. Offering me, as to a child, an att…

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…

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

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

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

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…

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

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

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

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

Shadows on the wall Noises down the hall Life doesn’t frighten me at all Bad dogs barking loud Big ghosts in a cloud