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

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

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

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

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

We, this people, on a small and lo… Traveling through casual space Past aloof stars, across the way o… To a destination where all signs t… It is possible and imperative that…

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,

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

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

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

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