Like A Jar You Housed

If Suddenly You Do Not Exist, If Suddenly You Are Not Living, I Shall Go On Living. I Do Not Dare, I Do Not Dare To Write It, If You Die. I Shall Go On Living.

From Scarlet To Powdered Gold, To Blazing Yellow, To The Rare Ashen Emerald, To The Orange And Black Velvet Of Your Shimmering Corselet, Out To The Tip That Like An Amber Thorn Begins You, Small, Superlative Being, You Are A Miracle, And You Blaze

When Your Hands Leap Towards Mine, Love, What Do They Bring Me In Flight?

I Have Never Thought Of My Life As Divided Between Poetry And Politics.

I Want To See Thirst In The Syllables, Tough Fire In The Sound; Feel Through The Dark For The Scream.