We can't help stretchinginto something called the pastand then forward into historyon these tendrils
Next year isOut dancing with
I wander behindclosed eyes. My way of stayingaway from here, my wayof being dust.
And as the sky shifts pink toaccommodate the day, I make ahole for a small soul in my throat.
I feel the field grow cold.I hear the day yawn black.
what is my time left behindwho will educate the all the childrensing them songs at evetide
Her skin shines mockinglyin rebellion. Light bendsaround her like a scar.
I did not love to ascendthat ruined stair.
belly growing upward againstgravity, her entire world
every day this vast mysterypasses over the town where you were born
I shall be here when I get here again
every point on the spinning earthhears your voice, touches your breath
like a sail I found myselfin material I could carry
abyss seek capsule eat o din
We go with the poetry of all weknow, and all we do not know.Even the unknowing is love.
I am standing in the wet grass,I am requesting the impossible.
Mouths opened one by oneFrom every shining poreOf my body
The muslin curtains bloomAnd the stars fall down on me
so beautiful, even God is forgiven
Made of ironPainted white
In desire which envelops thoughtIn night where the moon is a handful of violent birds
I am a damp veilA mad dame alive in mud
there is intelligence to it, even if I can't quite grasp the design in a moment.
With shining paws, the animal's only sin was hunger
The plans you drew have decomposedbeneath fresh layers of experience and a desireto see the sky close of its own accord
Your vision collides with the hills, the skyan enormous parasol, cobalt blue, unribbed.
Strange heat in the front of my brain.You don't get to chooseyour obsessions, not really.
look at it whose face is that is that face yours.
I do not count the mountains—who knows where to begin?