Eden
I saw the winter clouds moving across the roof of the greenhouse and I hid under the roses; an air face looked down upon us. masses of brilliant kites drifted like a myth over the glass. Sometimes I think I am a mummy of space floating in the tomb of a new daydream. in all transparent cathedrals where a bird of paradise is sequestered, great curtains are drawn over consciousness; yet, our bodies crash upon them, fall through these roofs into the warmth, into the moist leaves and blossoms, into the thick dense buds.
I am One of Them
women go round and round the mouth of nerves; their sunshine man with his world of impulses runs up the side of a hill. on land, the prevailing spring is one continuous grey building where the briars collapse and I walk out on the ice that is breaking up in the river. it is a bleached field, an enormous bewitchment smuggled out of time. who will know? who will know that I think of you out there and that I am wild with urges and wolves.
