Raw red cliffs that youstumbled down into your own shadowhaven't kept you away, or softred lights and strange electricalmusic that I play.

These are the ice horses, horseswho entered through your head,and then your heart,your beaten heart.These are the ones who loved you. They are the horses who have held youso close that you have becomea part of them,an ice horsegalloping into fire.

earth, sky, stars circlingmy heart

Her own daughterwas born, like she had been, in either placeor all places, so she could leave, leapinto the sound she had always heard,a voice like water, like the gods weavingagainst sundown in a scarlet light.

Under our ribsour hearts are bloody stars. Shine onshine on, and horses in their galloping flightstrike the curve of ribs.

You have paid the cover charge thousands of times overwith your livesand now you are afraidyou can never get out.

And we go on, keep giving birth and watchourselves die, over and over.And the ground spinning beneath usgoes on talking.

her eyes closed against someunimagined darkness, where she is buried in an achein which nothing makessense.

I began to understand that poetry did not have to be ... of an English that was always lonesome for its homeland in Europe.