I was
So sure
Id meet me
On the tracks
With bags of cash
And some clothes
In hand
But the fire
I had built
Went cold
As my
Second thoughts
Grew old
To the
Truth
Setting
In, but
Apart
from
Me
Where
I rightfully
Left me there
And made off
With my share
Of the loot

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be—
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands

i have found what you are like
the rain,

            (Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields

easily the pale club of the wind
and swirled justly souls of flower strike

the air in utterable coolness

deeds of green thrilling light
                                  with thinned

newfragile yellows

                      lurch and.press

—in the woods
                      which
                              stutter
                                        and

                                              sing
And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
                  your kiss

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

One is  forced to wonder
What life would be like
If darkness was eternal
And we lived in endless night
Would love prosper?
Or would hate take command?
Would art flourish?
Or violence reign supreme?
One is forced to wonder about these things
When there is a darkness inside of them

And she wore
black eyes in her pockets
and when she cried
her jeans went red.
my baby speaks with the
tip of her tongue on the
back of her teeth.
and every time I hear her speak
her beauty
makes me weak
and I'm down on my knees.

skin
a sheen of sweat
cries ring out
sheets
all tangled agony
***** foetid air
contract
cryout
subside
a birthing
no pink and downy babe is this
a mucus clot
a jellied mass
a river of blood and tears
a termination
of what wasn't quite
a tractor passes feeding out
calves for the slaughter
the sun shines
birds sing
all oblivious of anything
a death and life goes on

the kind of sad that doesn’t fit

anywhere. mine to keep. the world lets so many

ugly

things exist i’ll never learn to

talk,

words come only when i’m the solitary

witness

it’s not your fault, it’s nobody’s fault

our parents could have taught us but the ugly keeps them

quiet

who wants to speak of that?

you say you are

weak

and i think of all the times you were my

steadiness.

i hate these tears because they make you

ache

you are too good for the

ugly.