I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I want to be beaten
I want to be bruised, abused, broken
I want to be tossed and dragged
and tumbled and damaged
Submerged,
Screaming,
I want to be alone, deafened and voiceless
Immobile against this weight and force
Trapped in my body
Frozen, shocked, unconscious;

Loving you is like love from the ocean

Surrendered,

Reborn rejuvenated renewed refreshed
Alive for the first time
Clean and whole and glowing
Afloat in the widest strongest gentlest arms
Rocking the world (my world our world)
to sleep.

Chasing time or running fast too fast away from it. Passing on the left;

Pulling myself back together
Thinking of turtles in the road only thinking of crossing and heavy rubber tires and wind from our wheels
And trash
And new cities full of people
And mountains full of nobody
At 90