Is ful of rouninges and of jangles
Of werres, of pees, of mariages,
Of reste, of labour, of viages,
Of abode, of deeth, of lyfe,
Of love, of hate, acorde, of stryfe."
Jesus how much I had to say and could not
once the structure choked my voice and
my tongue was already numb and how much I wanted
the clean crush of a body against mine in ways that were
cold and kept us pure.
Sex is always and only a second when
words fail and
wants fall trippingly
into the lowest level
of desire.
Words can't be unsaid, we can't take back
Our lowest points.
Our bodies are inscribed with the words of our desire.
II.
Let me build a structure with words I cannot say.
I've seen spirals of glistering light, and
Would remake my body with trees I've known.
I watched a deer once drink the dew
And compiled the landscapes in my mind:
Structures of stone, of sand, of dream,
Worlds of words, of intense fragility, of fragile beauty.
I watched the summer drip from trees, watched my youth fade
and loved the moments of all my loss.
What structures slipped between
emerged, a birth upon the cold clear grass of early autumn.
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