Later, we will notice a vast communication
between separate selves. We will learn
in the colors of our lover's body

A world already named, already deposed
in the urge of his stressed
consonants, vowels slack:

They gave me a choice I didn't want: the fate
of a twenty-three-year-old man named
   Frank Spencer Robertson,

Even I can see the flowers are up. I take
like wild vine to my bed. And may I have
a word with the miser measuring out my joys.

Six years have gone since I have been loved
by you. All appearances have been more or less
phantom. There is a boy, now, applying for your job.

I do not live in Niger, but once
a man begged me to stop living
my life in Long Island City

In the beginning is the paper, blank and void.
That’s the way you buy it, the unwritten “word”.
The clean slate of your law-abiding citizen

Describe a scene from your daily life.

The sky has come down around us like a shroud.

Use plain language.

I forgot to tell you my husband
died. He was in Spain and something
strange happened with alcohol or water. He loved them

vive morte ma seule saison
lis blancs chrysanthèmes