This is not so violent as it sounds,
just as the little smiles
above unaccented syllables
are only suggestions of the pleasure
one gets from poetry.
This is not so violent as it sounds,
just as the little smiles
above unaccented syllables
are only suggestions of the pleasure
one gets from poetry.

And that leaves us.

How can you know?
I don’t but I do,
not from in you,
but from
the brown leaf crumpled in me.


Sex is an inverse mountain,
when it’s sex you shouldn’t have –
you coast gleefully, carefree to the top –
a bicycle ride down to the highest,
perfect view –
and Oh what a view! but then
(Oh what a view) you’re not
atop it but under it –
that was not the climb, this is,
a getting out from under and
not dying, one hopes,
from a place you should never have been.

