... and then
I should like
the wildflower
for my bed
of roses ...

It speaks
well of me
(does it not?)
to love
you
so ...
(for) to make ill
of
you
(makes)
me
the same ...

And yet
I know
that I am
speaking words
when speaking
makes uneasy verses -
but two by two
I really
really
need to be alone
with you ...

It is not that I have
a
jealous
kind
to be a
private
to your
solicitude
(it is not my only
wish ...)
but
the Golden rail!
to feel
the tracks
the quickening
of the
dawn
at last

The bare wind
of the pigeon
is warm
washed with
kisses from
the sea
The arm of the mountain
is wide
and sits on
the fruit of the tree.

The bird still
sings the
sweetest
songs

The harp
and
the lyre
are three

I long for
spaces
unaccustomed
to these
shores

Lord
take my hand
and walk
with
me

Birds
flown
by the silence of
so many
moons ...
stretch by the
pale of
the antelope.

The long line
Your shadow
falls, upon
my marriage
bed
becomes the final
trysting place
that links so
timely fell ...
why did you stir
the grassy
moss?
The place of virgin
dances
Your heart was
locked for
martyrdom
and fell beside
a rose
Your blessed
bleeding
runs away
in truth
I cannot
tell ...

The will that
drives
my Force
that willing while a flower
devised a lily

Dear God,
As soon
as l
remarked
that You
existed
some cloven
thing into
my heart
was flung
(and) the altar
in clear bell-like sounds
was singing
(as if) from some
distant
place
was bringing ...
The rich recited
phrases
of l do

Death is hard
to interview
a bitter port
to find
In shadows
and in deepening
mists
the bitter port
divides ...

Drifting ...
our lives
are drifting
away ...
like the
spray spun of the ocean
and falling
like the
swirling wind,
blowing
the sands away ...

There is no time
There is no space ...
only God's
golden moments
face to face ...

Forgive me ...
I was too careless
to be free;
The road was long
my heart was heavy
enticing strangers, I should die ...
When at once I heard a voice within me cry
Bring down the wine, the sky is free
that empty flask is thee ...

I saw a deer distracted
in a meadow and I knew that it was me
I gathered yellow roses
in my arms to keep
when I spied a casket
someday where I would sleep

... I pretend to be awake
when I am sleeping
I pretend to be alive
When I am dead
Who knows what bones
will walk again
What bones will sleep
above my head ...?