A heartvein throbs between her brows: Ketty-San’s
incensed another joke’s made at her expense,
With characters of granite schist, she hashtags a ban

Alone, which has grown to mean without you,
        I sweat in our old bed. In the bay, the storm’s orchestra tunes. 
Thunder, and my next expression is one of yours.

At the center of the city I come upon a hill, at the top of which is a very large bird. I see it resembles an eagle. Though it’s about 14 stories high, it’s as docile as a rabbit. Its foot, I see, is tied to a stout nearby building. The rope used for this purpose is thick, the knot alone having the bulk of a cottage, or a pleasant bungalow. 

I knew the dick size of every boy in my grade,
my measure being how it filled my fist
when I squeezed it through their jeans. In return

Look how the snow drifts
       flare on the Soracte’s slopes
—there, straining branches

Jean Vu 
Lived in Paris 
Rue Rimbaud 

I take meticulous care in noticing the ground
under my feet
as i walk slowly

Now I am married there is much to despair
now that I seem to need to.
By the powers vested in me, I am

Then to go there in the dusky
heavy air of that place yet always
carrying in the shielding

Looking At Tulips

Aware of all this mutability, I ask what does not change:
The longing of the heart to know is what I find myself saying.