a slip of stones...your sidelong glance,

an entire mountain to break our fall.

i want to tell you--as i tell you when

night doesn't know what's happening.

with the ritual of breath and its savage

exasperation.

you push from behind my eyes, and i

yours.

it's from there i hold words to your face

that pale, so i can live and die by comparison.

rocking forward and backward, side to side...

i can't undress and clothe enough.

i scratch at this split heart, and offer it a

crushing embrace when it breaks open.

it's you baby, it's you...the culmination of my

poetry--this final intensity.

i don't care about the next poem anymore,

the one i'm in is the god of your country.

i'm content to roam...waiting for you to come out

into a clearing.