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Contraband Press, 1975 & 1980

from Words to the Giantess

Eagerness is for those foolish others
who have grown from your side and claim
to love their passing on and not returning.
You merely wait, content in your regular
cycles of glee and depression,
for what wonders may befall. Maybe they will.
But you, love, disbelieve, despite
your witty heart. One day, you know
the bitter point of view of these words
will be marked only by a husk on a window sill.
And the remnant still living in that time
will see in it nothing new, though skulls may gape.

from Saying Here

Asleep on the bow and angry in the stern,
with squirrels as lookouts, we drift.
For the anchor was eaten by this sea
to rust: an exhilaration in the air,
a trace of the earth’s blood.

While this individual titleĀ is no longer in print, it has been included in Early Poems.

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