a bruise, bluein the muscle, youimpinge upon me.As bone hugs the ache home, soI’m vexed to love you, your bodythe shape of returns, your hair a torsoof light, your heatI must have, your openingI’d eat,...

I am that last, thatfinal thing, the bodyin a white sheet listening,

That’s what I want, that kind of recklessness where the poem is even ahead of you. It’s like riding a horse that’s a little too wild for you, so there’s this tension between what you...

Brimming. That’s what it is, I want to get to a place where my sentences enact brimming.

Moonlight and high wind.Dark poplars toss, insinuate the sea.

Memory revises me.

but in the cityin which I love you,no one comes, no onemeets me in the brick clefts;in the wedged dark,no finger touches me secretly, no mouthtastes my flawless salt,no one wakens the honey in the...

My tongue remembers your wounded flavor.The vein in my neckadores you. A swordstands up between my hips,my hidden fleece sends forth its scent of human oil.

I buried my father in my heart.Now he grows in me, my strange son, my little root who won’t drink milk, little pale foot sunk in unheard-of night, little clock spring newly wetin the fire,...

We suffer each other to have each other a while.