She leaps into the alien heart

A bespectacled artist called LearFirst perfected this smile in a sneer.He was clever and witty;He gave life to this ditty –That original author called Lear.

the inner dialogue,the monologueof futures & regrets,of pasts not past enough& futures that may never cometo pass,we found this boatbobbing in the blue,this refuge amid reefs,this white hullwithin this azure sibilance of sea,this central rockingso like the rockingbefore birth.Venus was born of the waters,borne over themto teach us about love-our only sailon the seas of…

the primeval sack of oceanbroke,& I gave birth to youlittle woman,little carrot top,little turned-up nose,pushing you out of myselfas my motherpushedme out of herself,as her mother did,& her mother’s mother before her,all of us bornof woman.I am the second daughterof a second daughterof a second daughter,but you shall be the first.You shall see the phrase‘second…

His eyes are knives.Who froze the ground to his feet?Who locked his mouth into an horizon?Why does the sun set when we touch?I look for the lines between the silences.He looks only for the silences.Cram this page under his tongue.Open him as if for surgery.Let the red knife love slide in

I looked at the book.‘It will stand,’ I thought.Not a palacebuilt by a newspaper czar,nor a mud hovelthat the sea will soften,but a good house of wordsnear the seawith everything plumb.That is the most I can ask.I have cut the wood myselffrom my own forests,I have sanded it smoothwith the grain.I have left knotholesfor the…

the doctor,Love.He appearsas husband, loveranalyst & muse,as father, son& maybe even God& surely death.All this is true.The man you turn toin the darkis many men.This is an open secretwomen share& yet agree to hideas ifthey might thenhide it from themselves.I will not hide.I write in the nude.I name names.I am I.The doctor’s name is Love.