Becket, MA

Try me. Bitter in the
veins.

Tamed somnambulist
trained, tired, tried to
tied up in parallel

Left alone, is this
what we wanted?

Missing the beat
missing the captured fleece
the subtle invitations
slow on the uptake
and unreturned

The wish not to say
return to sender
unintentionally
but we learned
such fear of strangers

Smoky denim jacket
damp and drying on
the back seat of regret

Brief open sky
mostly sky
opening with rain

What is your responsibility to
the campground dance party?
They should have had
a dance party after the show

That's right, that's right
the heart asserts
confirms the wordless
choreography

A pinafore of weightless
a negligee of
winglessness

It should be:
they dance,
we dance back.

We have it all in
us undanced
all mixed up with espresso and gin and
dicktalk, no
clittalk, I added

you will have a
     baby
pregnant with
movement

which ripens
not in womb
but in every
cell
the unsaid overflows

titanium wish-basket
hung dry
aspiration will bear

not only graceful
immense and spinning
exquisite slow mudra
time manipulation

with years of make
effort skillful practice

more than one body
communicates
fragmented
expanding universe

I want to swing
in middle with
still point
with chaos
spiraling tightly
its potential energy
unleashed releashes
surrounding

Carry thus longing
like water-jug
like matches kept dry in a tin

We pitched our tents in the rain
and nestled
separately in
flannel-lined sleeping bags

Is our fear our secret
desire?

**

I tilt unheld toward
     no one
I tilt unheld toward
     many arms
I tilt toward the arms in
     everything
I tilt, held by
     the cosmos
I tilt into the embrace
     of nothing

Held by emptiness, I
tilt.