She balanced the cake on the edge of the plate ( Read more... )

& say this here angels ( Read more... )

He rose and, rising, left his head behind him ( Read more... )

Not nails but the hammer,
having been there before and vanished,
is the house.

As bones consumed by fire
become the fire.

As a boy is a god since his face
is the face of a trickster,
and a puppet is neither himself nor another.

Since voice is an echo
already too late.

Not bones but the voice that says
Be thou boneis the flint ( Read more... )

        And when the nights, the May nights, the moan nights, when they come. When they come, the wrong words will follow, glancing sorrow. My idiot Spring, with its hot heart and figures, the flowers lame laws in a weatherbane wind. Where is my silver harrow, my ore-waif strewing pierce-bits with every skip? (In one story, she plays the accordion ( Read more... )

        Some say a baby cries for the life to come ( Read more... )

At this end there was silence, silence without earth ( Read more... )

In the beginning was the worm and the worm ( Read more... )

The weight of the world ( Read more... )

VI ( Read more... )