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

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

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

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,

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

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…

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

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

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

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

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

We wear the mask that grins and li… It shades our cheeks and hides our… This debt we pay to human guile With torn and bleeding hearts… We smile and mouth the myriad subt…