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I slipped one sparrow black and shivering into my mouth.

i was a wild thing down by the river, quiet like wild things are.

Everything hung in perfect balance. Light and dark, heaven and hell.

Exhausted, androgynous, delirious, I delight in my many parts.

I drag my sheets as Earth drags her tangled mess of tides.

Time is a hearse and horse, a carrot and stick, a window and widow.

In hushed awe they talk of things to come, a golden time of flowering.

He loves me. That’s half enough: he’s the only man around.

There was only the gulf of our steps, our breathing brittle as string.

The pupils are toothpicks. The lake is a sky with a circle beneath.

If every present
is possible, how can we have eyes to see?

Maybe he was preparing for a disaster that would never happen.

he has come to write like nervous wasps in my mind like a grocery list.

When he bent close to her, his balaclava glowed silvery in the dying sunlight.

I must tell you what it is like to be human, or you will drift away.

I let you pull my hair, throw me to the rocks, disarrange me.

Lunatics call it annihilation . . . Think of it as not doing a thing

I build our life together as I want it to be.

The mechanism and its crank pull us forever closer, you and I.

Soon everything here will be sopped up by time. Only art will last.

Regarding the affairs of our Father, your demon is Ennui.

This is the stupid math of loving another human being.

My brush an M-16, thirty-round clips for tubes of paint, all of them red.

Marianne Boruch

Let’s rummage through each other’s bodies like a blowout sale.

I want you enough to gnash you into a silence made from pieces of silver.

I am veins and breath, the entrance the world passes through.

There’s nowhere he can kiss where she hasn’t been kissed by the sun.

How large our muscles have to be to lift our wings even a single time.

Imagine octopus, and keep the talk going through the chew.