How have I hurt you?
How have I hurt you?
You saw me.
I dream I am you full of fear and dread with me in your arms :my cloth love holding your breath How have I hurt you
You saw me
I didn't see you
Do flies remember us
Do flies remember us We don't them we say “fly” say “woman” “man” you gone through my hands me through your hands our footprints feeling over us thirstily
You drew my head
You drew my head the back of my head my neck stem you made my head a charcoal skull and even the skull is turned away no eyes
The little, faintly blue clay eggs
The little, faintly blue clay eggs in the real grass nest you made and sent to me by hand: It runs through my thighs, even now, that you thought of it! for a little while we thought of nothing else. Frozen little couple in caps, frozen beaks—
Happiness (3)
The moment you turned to me on W 4th St. Your gentleness to me The hard winter grass here under my shoes The frost I knelt in the frost to your parents The warm light on the right hand side of your face The light on the Buddha's eyelids I knelt to my parents Their suffering How much sleep there was in sleep How no suffering is lost
Letter
The hornet holds on to the curtain, winter sleep. Rubs her legs. Climbs the curtain. Behind her the cedars sleep lightly, like guests. But I am the guest. The ghost cars climb the ghost highway. Even my hand over the page adds to the ‘room tone': the little constant wind. The effort of becoming. These words are my life. The effort of loving the un-become. To make the suffering visible. The un-become love: What we lost, a leaf, what we cherish, a leaf. One leaf of grass. I'm sending you this seed-pod, this red ribbon, my tongue, these two red ribbons, my mouth, my other mouth, —but the other world—blindly I guzzle the swimming milk of its seed field flower—
I could never let go
my husband my wound my sleep but they were surrendered from me my books them pleasing you/ disappointing you the desire for men gazing feeding the cursive characters I my you in chalk across the white-lined blackboard surrendered from me when I couldn't breathe so.
The Basket House
The basket house: to shelter me inside the night cave the emptiness where the other one holds me nurses me in the emptiness, holds me the way paper made out of a tree holds a deer. And he holds me near: he pulls the cord out from me, in to him, length over length.
The House and the World
All this anger heart beating unless I'd come inside your blind window and stay there like you But then the other world was going to be given: the cello part carrying us the whole time like earth the scarred hip tipped groin the flying whitethorn hedge the cup
In your eyes
In your eyes there was a little pupil a woman turned to a holy well notes and snapshots pinned to her dress at her feet crutches eyeglasses
Woman, Leaving
You waited 4 Ever Don't listen for words here no more than the words the grass speaks or the mouth of the lake Then came an undone stitch of light You tore it open and flew
Trim my hoofs
Trim my hoofs! I
