I watch her undress my question.
(The eyes answer instinctively)

I can see her lie
through the slow marriage of words
in her soft reply.

An answer is merely a question
                         Wilfully undressed.

What precious stones have fallen
to ripple through the unknown.
A wilderness of insects,
the minute exactness
of wing intricacy
tick ticks in the undergrowth.

In grass by the footprints of man
the whole world has grown
around sure infant heels,
its earthy shadow lingers
as first perceptions of death

are weaved gently into fables,
stroking our children's sacred brow
wisely with sorrow - Where
did Grandpa really go? Yet

on the fringe of morning,
the shrinking world falling
back around our footprints - They wonder
with reason, posing their first questions
                                                          of God.

Vast Winter I have you
Under cloud and sullen skies
Revolving endless loss - Life
                               Closed utterly

Over impressions of Summer
Like faded ancestral footprints
In arid and dry wilderness - Choked
                               We breathe
And turn rested on past horizons,
Sure memory poised and pressed
Unfaded prints as fresh as yesterday;

The aching of soft sorrow
Peels the ever intruding smile.

In sleep disturbed
              wandering pattern of dreams

lay flat, rested like receding tide
              washed lonely to the shore.

Eyes wide by close of night
              gently beyond morning,

circling far below
              your arms wrapped like ribbon fences,
the surround of your body's intent.

A curved milky epidermis, from dawn
              the moon drips a humble sign;
              Renewed our skin awakes.

A quiet storm
as mermaids splash
the smooth lather
               which covers the brain
A love remembered
eyes raining
gently tearing pages
of a dictionary
               to burn
through one thousand mornings
an instant breath
against the glass
the shaking hand
will clasp to seek
               and shall never ever learn.

*This is the happening
as bourbon first hits the ice.

For Mary Adams*

The gestational carrier
                          Of certainty,
Picture frames in bloom.
Their photographs
                          As precious as petals
Outgrowing her empty room.

Falling now, slipping the fingers;
A moment - A whisper

Gathered like winter twigs,
Her sweet and gentle bones.

Feet swill the inky ocean
black night and starlight
dragonfly mate

above the crustacean
a simplicity of darkness
the breathing tide rotates

footprints washed again and again
around my hands the world

I feel I want for nothing.