When grey skies cloud my mind, he shows me how the sun can shine.
When loneliness takes over, he places his hand in mine.

When my teardrops produced rivers, his shoulders provide my dam.
When my confidence deserts me, he reminds how clever I am.

When at night I feel a chill, he cloaks me in his arms.
When fear takes a hold of me, he protects me from lives harms.

I shall always love him, his smile, his gentle ways.
My husband, my lover and my friend, forever throughout our days.

You must begin early
while it is cool and your head clear
discernment, a sharpened tine
probing the rocky darkness
for all things latent and destructive.

Be aware that the velvet sage
of the leaves belies their power
to take over every space, remember
roots burrow deep, anchoring in
fissures we don’t even know exist.

You must delve as close
to the origin as possible
or the **** you think eradicated
will bide its time, germinating
in the still secret ground

waiting for light
to penetrate the moist earth
waking the sprout
who voraciously pushes up and out
a curled blemish

in your otherwise carefully tended garden.

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not
like. It is a mask I try on.
I migrate toward it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old. It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot. I have
sewn it over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.

This is my month,
The day I was born,
A special day, one way
The ninth, the best
I was born for greatness,
In the Lord Jesus Christ,
I give thanks to him,
For the blessings in my life,
Let's give thanks to him,
Our heavenly father,
Soaring in the skies,
With all his angels together,
In a universe forever,
Let's make it the best,

The people that only broke me,
Only made me stronger,
Made me tough & wiser,
No one can break me down,
Not no demon, not no clown,
Only my lord I'd fall to the ground,
Submit my prayer, and petitions,
Help me with all my decisions,