Driving through the mining counties
Green River to Central City
light of dawn like water
shadows rising to the surface

Now I am flying a land
compressed below me, a realm,
I alight and descend to:
Long Island as it was in the cold

Far below our lab
Two doom-planes are about to bump.

Mouth won
Because eye watched

in the swirling there is some meaning that draws me
without specific reference I’m saying to her vagina

Needled by the notion that a poet should know
      reality

Sometimes I think I will be broken by your lukewarm Hand.

There will be ruin in unwelcome worldliness.

Someone knew
the importance of giving him a name.

Aromas of stone and
                          fire. Deranged singing
from the grindstone,