i was a wild thing down by the river, quiet like wild things are.
Exhausted, androgynous, delirious, I delight in my many parts.
In hushed awe they talk of things to come, a golden time of flowering.
I dug a hole in you; I jumped (here is the church, here is the steeple).
I told you how I’ve always been attracted to little violences.
Even as a child, I was skeptical—testing God when He wasn’t looking.
Elsewhere, perhaps here too, regimes stagger, a congress ends.
Before there was air, sublime silence. There was no one not to hear it.
If every present is possible, how can we have eyes to see?
He greets you with a kiss and marries your elbow to walk the path.
It is here I learn the speech of men. The speechless guilt of every swig.
I drag my sheets as Earth drags her tangled mess of tides.
Everything hung in perfect balance. Light and dark, heaven and hell.
I lie down and see you one bed over; therefore God exists.
There was only the gulf of our steps, our breathing brittle as string.
Imagine the world you want to live in; make the world in this image.
I'll pick a black card of luck for you: star, pinkmoon, mirror, ostrich eye.
I’m going to save up against the flood and stagger to carry nothing.
our minds are not the same if they were the same you would be here
Time is a hearse and horse, a carrot and stick, a window and widow.
The stars begin to turn clockwise, freeing us of all consequences.
The pupils are toothpicks. The lake is a sky with a circle beneath.
If I bring the wrong pen the words look like snow piles on an empty page.
I let you pull my hair, throw me to the rocks, disarrange me.
Absence rarely makes the heart grow fonder, or so my mother said.
Lunatics call it annihilation . . . Think of it as not doing a thing
Suddenly two would dart and clasp one another belly to belly.
The walls pull apart like a troubled couple, finally deciding to hold.
What do you offer someone who has lost half of her beginning?
Even the busiest of businessmen are out for the count, paying the price.