My beloved Helios is leaving, see
how the hem of his robe slips from the tent
as Chaos’ daughter approaches, such

The courtroom, clad in wood veneer,
could be a lesser pharaoh’s tomb
equipped for immortality.

The narrow cell contains a bunk,
steel desk mounted on the wall,
toilet, sink, and television;

Not days of anger
but days of irritation,
light through dirty glass,

Give me that! Give me that!
Okay, go and get it.
She fell

I made this up from nothing. 
It’s not myself I sing, 
or love, or anything 

In a loft facing a parking lot
   on a main drag of the tired
southend, lives my friend

In the beginning of my love wild hearts and trees. Greenness. The waves
at the end of the street. Dynamite proposals. To be a man,
or a white thing crawling through nuns’ dreams. In

Of course it’s a poem no man could withstand, all that forbidding power
Of the glance and the long sweetness of the slow analysis, 
Sweetness that drew him: 
                                         into the gristle of seeds, 

On cold days
it is easy to be reasonable,
to button the mouth against kisses,