Rising in the morning like warm bread, from a bed in America, the aroma

And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy. —William Blake Because I would not admit that I had nurtured

For Naomi Lazard Sometimes I can’t wait until I… —Naomi Lazard My friends are tired. The ones who are married are tired

Knowing our lives a drowse towards death (attended by dogs & children) how can it not matter

We used to meet on this corner in the same wind. It fought us up the hill to your house,

Cement up to the neck & my head packed with unsaid words. A gullet full of pebbles, a mouth

The decorum of fire... —Pablo Neruda We learned the decorum of fire, the flame’s curious symmetry, the blue heat at the center of the…

I began by loving women & the love turned to bitterness. My mother, the bitter, whose bitter lesson–

You gave me a rose last time we met. I told myself if it bloomed our love would bloom,

After the first astounding rush, after the weeks at the lake, the crystal, the clouds, the water… the snow breaking under our boots… & the long mornings in bed. .…

She was not a slender woman, but her skin was milk mixed in with strawberry jam & between her legs the word pu… & her hair was the color of wh…

Not wanting to write for fear that anything– the passion for the page, the love of carbon ribbons & e… will distract me from your face,

People wish to be settled. Onl… —Thoreau My life has been the instrument for a mouth