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But in those days my luck was good and more intriguing
impulse taught what can and cannot
where it wasn't love for a change
though certainly the pleasures of proximity so underground
I'll forget the path no strings no Sturm und Drang
surely the way a single torch illuminates
a cavern just enough to find the way out
the mystery of finding what you need of making
an exit in moonlight paradise
discovers you and keeps you
will be forgotten too
your plan that house
imagine a ruin
think how a balcony a mountain
is recorded but I know
to live with ease a mode of travel
enough without the promised treasure in the wall
another century
going by the downstairs fire the bedclothes piled
as soon as the hand leaves over me quilts and the fire
the place the mind erases
humming alone
in the beginning like movies how each time all the pictures
lamb
on a spit it takes awhile if the imagination
burns low we pull our clothes off
three times before the lamb is done
I don't want to rhyme but it's a low fire begun in sunlight
I want to think about new territory
these conversations
illuminated drawings on a cave wall
if you get cold my side of the bed
of the brain it depends on who, doesn't it?
but why would he have thought
I'd ask questions
I don't know how to pose
the illegible the forgotten
the domestic raises its head like a doe
appears as a hieroglyph against the horizon
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