in the river of stones
the water pools up and soon
the world slides to her knees
the trembling fire

there is a light on the iris
a wire to the moon
your hand fits my breast
skims the curve of my hips
i make a wife of my art

shivering down to the knees again
rocking to ground with the beat of it
i am the love of the life
that has fire and heat

in the river of stones
the blackbird sings a little song
blood beats, sings along
strip down to the marrow
life comes in the marrow of the pain
the rush, the crush, the water
running over, boiling up from under-
neath the weaving stones, a tapestry
of earth, broken fiery heat
coming down to her knees
i make a wife of my art
i am the love of a life

Respiré con su respiración y le amé

i died in the death of your presence
when light ceased falling
in the amber of cloaked sin
the flickering break on beaten shore
with every despairing and failing part
each stricken, wounded, drowning quarter of my heart
i died in your arms while we were walking

you spilt over into multiple hearts in
one aching moment but i died in moment of knowing
how much of a ghost a man becomes in the dark
so your life goes on in the womb of empty
and mine carries on to a distant shore
while darkness falls here on my wife
my bride of long, white cloud and rain
you becoming another ghost, again
i die on your exhaling breath

you spent all your sweat, skin and love
spilled it on rocky soil with salty air
you ran like silt in the river
still i'm the ocean and the sailboat on the ocean
the lakes and the rain, the endless water
the quenching thunder am I, setting sail
water like the oboe and the flute calling out
the summer songs, the haze and sweet notes of
warm light falling up, springing back to life
from the breath on which I died, and i loved you.