We suffer each other to have each other a while.

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, each momentof that soft-finned fruit,inverted fountain in which I don't see me.

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

A door jumpsout from shadows,then jumps away. Thisis what I've come to find:the back door, unlatched.Tooled by insular wind, itslams and slamswithout meaningto and without meaning.

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.

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 can do and what the horse decides it's going to do.

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

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

I saw your eyes before I had eyes to see.And I've lived longingfor your every look ever since.The longing entered time as this body.And the longing grew as this body wanes.That longing will outlive this bodyI loved you before I as born.It makes no sense, I know.Long before eternity, I caught a glimpseof your neck and shoulders, your ankles and toes.And I've been lonely for you from that instant.