ich grolle nicht

there's nothing to blame,

my dearest. nothing to

it's just that there's so little left.

if i were a god i could write in tongues of flame

and i would say in letters a mile wide that it wasn't

...what i thought.

the taste

of a shadow is

something vile.

as if you were vile,

lover,

as if in the depths of your eyes lurked

white, warped things

that not even the sun of your face

could burn away.

white as zinc.

the flavor of a girl.

no longer to taste

the gravel

your steps

touched.

resonance

kettle full of thorn diary chapter and verse:

the sweat on your hands like a sun disc
like a sun disc the rose in the fire
the rose in the fire like a deer in the wire
like a deer in the wire the femur the spire

the femur the spire like the house of the moon
who came to there came there too soon oh too soon
who came to there came there too soon oh too soon
mourn mother the moon mourn the shatter of beams
mourn those split unborn stars as if they were anything