In dreams I descendinto the cave of my past:a child with a morgue-tagon its toe,the terrible metal squeakingof the morgue-drawers,& the chilly basement& the slam of doors.Or else I am setting up dreamhouse,with the wifeof my second ex-husband.She complains of himwith breaking sorrow-& I comfort her.(She only married him, it seems, for me).Sometimes I wake…
I have cursed you enoughin the lines of my poems& between them,in the silences which falllike ash-flakeson the watertankfrom a smog-bound sky.I have cursed youbecause I rememberthe smell of Joyon a sealskin coat& because I feelmore abandoned than a baby sealon an ice floe redwith it’s mother’s blood.I have cursed youas I walked & prayedon…
the passion for the page,the love of carbon ribbons & erasers-will distract me from your face,from your eyes greenas the flickering base of flames,& your tarnished copper hair.My love is thick as rust& just as hard to scrape off.It glows like the green roofs of paris:it shines in the sun like dropped pennies.I fix on…
A bed, a telephone, the cordto the worldbeyond the womb . . .Here lovers meet, have met,will meet again behind different faceswhile the icy picureslook on,seeing nothing.Hotel rooms see nothing.Business transacted,prostitutes killed,marriages silently shaken;what happens hereis off the record;there is no recordwhen the sheetsare changedevery nightfor other guests.& you my darlingmy lover, my reader,ultimatelymyself,why are…
it is easy to be reasonable,to button the mouth against kisses,dust the breastswith talcum powder& forgetthe red pulp meatof the heart.On those daysit beatslike a digital clock-not a beat at allbut a steady whirringchilly as green neon,luminous as numerals in the dark,cool as electricity.& I think:I can live without it all-love with its blood pump,sex…
Rising on pure will(the lurch & lift-off,the sudden swinginto wide, white snow),I encourage the cable.Past the wind& crossed tips of my skis& the mauve shadows of pines& the spoor of bears& deer,I speak to my fear,rising, riding,finding myselfthe only thingbetween snow & sky,the linkthat holds it all together.Halfway up the wire,we stop,slide back a little(a…
I who grew upgnawing on books,as some kidsgnawon bubble gum,who married disastrouslynot oncebut three times,yet have a lovely daughterI would not undofor all the dopein California.Fear was my element,fear my contagion.I swam in ittill I becameimmune.The plane takes off& I laugh aloud.Call me courageous.I am still alive.
or wife-thisis what poetry isabout-Eskimo, Aztec,or even ItalianRinascimento,or even the high falutin Greeksor noble Roman-O’s.O the constant turmoilof the human species-beds, graves, Spring with itsfamiliar rosebuds, the wrong beds,the wrong graves, warsunremembered & boundaries gainedonly to be lost & lostagain& lost roses whose lostpetalsreminded poets to carpe, carpediem with whoever’s wifeor husband happened tobe handiest!O…
& come backto life again,is stretching out his armsin the darkas if to embracefavorite ghosts.His heart stops& starts.Once morehe has been pardonedfor nothing.It is my fathermaking the darknessinto daughters.
the quintessential dogginessof the universe, of the wholecanine race, why are weuneasy?No dog I knowwould hurl thunderbolts,or plant plague germs,or shower us with dartsof pox or gonococci.No. He lies on his backawaitingthe cosmic belly rub.He wags his tail signifyinguniversal love.He frolics and cavortsbecause he has justtaken a galactic shit& found it good.All dogs are blessed;they…
