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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here

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

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

When I was young, I used to Watch behind the curtains As men walked up and down the stre… Young men sharp as mustard. See them. Men are always

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

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

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

A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since depart… Marked the mastodon, The dinosaur, who left dried token… Of their sojourn here