When I too long have looked upon your face,
Wherein for me a brightness unobscured
Save by the mists of brightness has its place,
And terrible beauty not to be endured,
I turn away reluctant from your light,
And stand irresolute, a mind undone,
A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight
From having looked too long upon the sun.
Then is my daily life a narrow room
In which a little while, uncertainly,
Surrounded by impenetrable gloom,
Among familiar things grown strange to me
Making my way, I pause, and feel, and hark,
Till I become accustomed to the dark.

Be to her, Persephone,
All the things I might not be;
Take her head upon your knee.
She that was so proud and wild,
Flippant, arrogant and free,
She that had no need of me,
Is a little lonely child
Lost in Hell,—Persephone,
Take her head upon your knee;
Say to her, “My dear, my dear,
It is not so dreadful here.”

mothers are interesting to think about.
here is a person that God
or the universe or whatever profound and unimaginable thing that our feeble human minds cannot comprehend
took and made into your growing space
her body now a thing to inhabit you-forming into something better
than she could ever hope for-
and giving you everything in the selfish way that love requires in every relationship
her breath
her blood
her being
separated and shared
until time and nature decides to spill you out into the world for all to see.
No wonder you cried when you were born

My first love writes about you
In her bell jar
Only a fragment in a humming of
New York and electricity

I’m crazy about electrocutions
Wiring on the brain going
Overdrive
Burning cerebellum smelling of sweet cigarette smoke and
Betrayal

Richard found a suitcase in your room
Got big bird on the fishing line
A bit of a shout
Bit of a start
Bit of an angry snarl
“He’s my favorite ****** of the whole bunch.”

And we know about his only bride
And the Russians die on the way out
Electric red is dangerous
Tape across the mouth
Smoke coming from a socket

Wear the hat, honey
Tinged with Siberia and America’s headache
With nine inch nails and little
Fascist *******
Tucked inside the heart of everyone
Like you
But only to accessorize

I think they understand squat
In your ear
The colossus is growing
Split at your feet like a ripe fruit
Concave flesh
Clock starts—flesh, bone
Nothing there

Mundane space between the knife and thumb
“What a thrill,” you tell to me, “My thumb instead of an onion.”
Thrill indeed
Your father instead of the world
Swallow black—whole oceans in your throat
Swimming back to Daddy

You did it again and I say it’s
Coming back again
Back again
Again

Lilac nurse in a prom dress
Tinged in grey and Cambridge sweaters
Brushing the sun
Teddy makes you laugh eventually
Say you know what you want
He said you were the real thing
So learn

I can taste you alive
I’m underneath the floorboards
Ibuprofen
Blue tinged with your bandages
Christ takes His time to raise me back
The black dog
3 years
Still digging even when

You and I cross the sky and I cross my heart and I cross my legs oh my
God
Bit your pretty red heart in two

body
lightweight flesh stretched over bones young enough to be
mine
she says, “I’m not asking you to believe in me.
but
silver-haired daddy’s got it confused
i’m not persephone.”
talk can be dangerous and  tape it across my
mouth
“these things you need to do
i never asked you how.”
line me up in single file
with all your grievances
still
i can taste you still
alive
below the waves
something tragic in your stars and charts and maps and
       destiny
black dog coming back when you
open up
for the rest of the world to breathe
i think i can see
“I’m not asking you to believe in me.
but
silver-haired daddy’s got it confused
i’m not persephone.”
but if you need time
sometimes i think
if we take some time
i won’t mind
down the river your friend names
after me
i don’t hold onto the tales of your kind
line me up in single file
with all your grievances
still
i can taste you still
alive
below the waves

calling for myself  in the corners of the world
i know she’s playing poker with the rest of the stragglers
pale kind
i know she’s playing poker with the rest
the rest
how many fates turn around in the other time
bag in the ulcer field
dreams that you’ll never find
you thought that you were the ****** one
WELL SO DID I
SAY YOU DON’T WANT IT
SAY YOU DON’T WANT IT
SAY YOU DON’T WANT IT
AGAIN AND AGAIN And again and again and

she says, “I’m not asking you to believe in me.
but
silver-haired daddy’s got it confused
i’m not persephone.”
talk can be dangerous and  tape it across my
mouth
“these things you need to do
i never asked you how.”

i know we’re falling and there’s no sign of getting through
in your heart i feel the west
and it’s dying too

dear god
i see my friend at the train station
mouth black with soot and apprehension
white knuckles curled around a suitcase full of you and stickers plastered
on the front of my boot
dirt caked and loose thread all coming apart
of me and you and i and they are a changeling
a golden ring
a sour ping
a little thing
i think that every suitcase has you with dead wood and a broken string
try to find my opus in the back of the closet
my valuable
*** caked with a bible full of flies