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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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…

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,

The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that… Some people wrap their lies around… And you sit wondering