oh Rose
how thou
art of my
heart always
a part

in fiber
and beating
the muscle

big lung
inside where
interchange
blood air

you grow
your croaking
voice

the roots reach
into soil
unstill

moved
rhythmically
by your being

my Rose
my heart

thou art
the first cause

a beginning
moved not
but moves
all action
to start

.



.










,

the something you alive,
white naked
blue eyed
stranding
blonde
darkly
wheat gold

i run
,a finger,
through

while makes
gladness
sing saying
by voice
the mouth
of your
soul

i (Dear)
am not
without thy
chasteness
after chasing
the morning
on hills cloaked in
crocus and thyme

reach to hold
the crust of your
divine health

a cheek
pallid
struck through
(rouge)
and beating
little by

heart
this my
dear
let
this anthem
of thy breath

ring through
all stillness
a golden tone

exciting every
atom to
DANCE

Goodbye
I loved you the way
night were
stars and
ceaselessly
against darkness
standing brightly
up the sky
by a shore
suddenly
with the ocean
froth and smell
of green girls
coiling between
your toes
a whole meadow
immediately with
course hulls
under the fingers
buzzing a bee
by the rain
in whose black
body Lavender,
thyme, and
thistle
shouldered
up bearing
the blind
of new sunlight
“like shining
From shook
foil “

with what
cleanness
are wife hands
whole

in whose
joining
are the bodies
of my children

And

my wife’s body
in who slept
my children

whose breath
were
their breath

whose blood
were
their blood

carrying
the crumbs
of a little life
through
biggest
Death

by the way,
I have always loved you,
unwonderlingly which
I do not think
another hand
would be so nice
in mine

a hand last held
—no void to fill:
(the hand that grasps
is empty still).

so wait this hand
to holdest yours
when shut my eyes
as closest doors

no part, no rent
will bear the breaking
of flesh’s joy
a join making

so lay in still
at slumbers ask
a morn will come
where loves a bask

who R you the god
i've been
inside several
times tonight

         ?

a beach rose
where one time
i wished i was
seeing the ocean
split itself again
over a man.

did you ever
wonderlingly
upward which
a star upon
pitch stairs
climbs casually?

who knows not me i've never even seen.

in what sureness holds wife hands?

My most mundane love,
fresh in a moment
i felt your shoulders
between my fingers
the fascia binding
my soul to yours.

when took me
yours beneath
a smallest gable
of artificial flowering:

(in a peach dress
very pregnant;
i kissed the
last person).