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

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

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

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

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

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,

When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence

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,

You drink a bitter draught. I sip the tears your eyes fight to… A cup of lees, of henbane steeped… Your breast is hot, Your anger black and cold,

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

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

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,

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