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

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

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

I keep on drying 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

She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running

Beloved, In what other lives or lands Have I known your lips Your Hands Your Laughter brave

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

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

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

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

Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy hands bunched on layered hip… Where bones idle under years of fa… And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation

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

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