I do not have a presence and she tells me she is a ghost.
Substance has that kind of weight.
You talk to the streams radiating from the edge of the river
as if each one were a snake that fat
and walk into an outer universe
to draw the night with color,
quick and simple,
exactly like life and everything else in this world.
deep water drums
hard shelled and thick skinned
& children rush from their homes
women leap across dancing fields
men prance and jump
within reach of the sky
the wind a nice touch
& the drums
one hand to another
GEOMETRY AND ITS PLACE IN A POEM
—after a first line by Richard Hugo
Day is a woman in love and night
a plate holding her world, small and confined
to a few rooms in a cramped two flat.
She tastes like Venus and her smell
wrought with failure and grease holds up the walls.
Afternoon comes on with strawberry visions,
Venn diagrams, raspberries, huckleberries,
blueberries, pie, everything circumvent,
vanilla with cream and very berry mousse.