Tonight in the Southwest
Sadness is disappearing

If a man steals his neighbor’s shoes, he must
guard them day and night. He must not sleep.
He must try and eat them.

The only tall trees are on islands. Autumn
fires keep the land clear—The river
suddenly went slippery and jade. On its banks

From the frank rendering of the sock
to the foot and the hem released
of its fold, with scent marking

As you curl up
your smooth buttocks
lazy against my stomach

Many spoons in the sink, and that means it was a dull night, too much coffee and ice cream, not enough foreplay. If there are many forks, it was probably a good night. But most importantly if there were many knives used, it was a great night, even if misunderstandings arose, people 

Noticing now how trees in twilight gather 
closer, more in command than you know them to be, 
snags the eye on advancing time foreshortened, 

Realism means being there, not living some abstract 
life tied up in equity against the possibility of 
tomorrow, all the things we were taught to conserve.

There is a resonance in stone. 
Just put your ear against the grave of one 
You hated because love was difficult to bear.

That it could all come down 
to a man in a room 
empty but for