It is generally anger dreams that occupy my nights now.This is not uncommon after loss of love—blue and black and red blasting the crater open.I am interested in anger.

Her marble tears run down her marble face.A stranger is someone who has no handkerchief.Who has no words to say.Whose shadow mind is burningas he sits watching her handsand thinks how rare!to see a Romantalkwith no gestures at all.

As tree shapes from mist / Her young death / Loose / In you.

Why does tragedy exist? Because you are full of rage. Why are you full of rage? Because you are full of grief.