Dwarfing us.

In Plaster I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now:

One child drops a barrette of pink plastic; None of them seem to notice.

It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac, A palace of velvet With windows of mirrors.

Mute as a turnip from the Fourth Of July to All Fools' Day, O high-riser, my little loaf.

The blue water-mists dropping

These are my hands My knees.

Dark House This is a dark house, very big.

On the bank of the river's Backtracking tail. I'd come for Free fish-bait: the blue mussels

But to a friend, in private, Rousseau confessed his eye So possessed by the glowing red of the couch which you,

Spiteful as a woman, but not so nervous, And dying to say something unanswerable.

Over whose pool I tenderly

Smell the melt of shoe-blacking,

Black Mind against all that white.

Sorrows of Malfi's gentle duchess? Gone

White as babies' bedding and glittering with dead breath. O ivory!

Where love-met groundhogs love one in return, Where straight talk is the rule, whether warm or hostile, Which no gruff animal misinterprets.

Launder and present themselves.

The sky's far dome is sane and clear.

Fish-tailed girls purchase each white leg.

The tattle of my Gold joints, my way of turning

A perfectly faceted wife to wait On him hand and foot, quiet as a diamond.

A place, a time gone out of mind.

Not her whiteness and beauty, as I had at first supposed.

reveals no cracks that can be decoded? when washbowl maintains it has no more holy calling

I smell that whiteness here, beneath the stones Where small ants roll their eggs, where grubs fatten.

Are hustled over the crests and troughs, Each stalled in his particular minute And castled in it like a king.

I breathe, and the mouth

Our luggage, as docks halt our brief epic; no debt Survives arrival; we walk the plank with strangers.

And their future lot, she braved Church curse to ken that crooked oath Whereby one hires a demon.

The aphrodisiac squid.

Love Letter Not easy to state the change you made.

Rather than croak out What's to come, My darling ravens are flown.

They collapse like lungs, the escaped water Threading back, filament by filament, to the pure

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try Your handful of notes;

Prow-like through blurs Of fog in that hinterland few Hikers get to:

Hammers her rare and

Sat by my father's bean tree Eating the fingers of wisdom.

The constriction killing me also.

I'm doped and thick from my last sleeping pill.

O the beauty of usage!

I found your name, I found your bones and all Enlisted in a cramped necropolis, Your speckled stone askew by an iron fence.

goodbyes were said, trains let go, and I, great magnanimous fool, thus wrenched from

The narcissi, too, are bowing to some big thing: It rattles their stars on the green hill where Percy

This earth I rise from, and I in agony.

It is comfortable, for a change, to mean so little.

Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.

I would breathe water.

And what if two lives leaked between my thighs? I have seen the white clean chamber with its instruments.

And my forest