My God, my God, what queer corner am I in? Didn’t I die, blood running down the post, lungs gagging for air, die there for the sin of anyone, my…
It is half winter, half spring, and Barbara and I are standing confronting the ocean. Its mouth is open very wide, and it has dug up its green, throwing it,…
Everyone in me is a bird. I am beating all my wings. They wanted to cut you out but they will not. They said you were immeasurably empty but you…
By the first of August the invisible beetles began to snore and the grass was as tough as hemp and was no color–no more than the sand was a color…
of her arms, this was her sin: where the wood berries bin of forest was new and full, she crept out by its tall posts, those wooden legs, and heard…
What is death, I ask. What is life, you ask. I give them both my buttocks, my two wheels rolling off toward Nirvana. They are neat as a wallet, opening…
Some women marry houses. It’s another kind of skin; it has a heart, a mouth, a liver and bowel movements. The walls are permanent and pink. See how she sits…
A red-hot needle hangs out of him, he steers by it as if it were a rudder, he would get in the house any way he could and then he…
Over stone walls and barns, miles from the black-eyed Susans, over circus tents and moon rockets you are going, going. You who have inhabited me in the deepest and most…