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
you push from behind my eyes, and i
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.