whose kiss
was the first ever
was it like velvet
like a hungry clock
for the house
to spend time with
it begins to sing
as we reconsider
what to do or be
I am big
like a declaration of war
or a laugh in church
but you
must have somebody
and therefore care for
that sum of others
that I am
go with me
stay with me
keep me from the ice
night and the river
gun for our hearts
moth to moth
we discourse in letters of fire
still free
after love an account
of my day’s work
where we join our hips
to the company of sleep
in dry weather
I go for wine
the secret owl of my heart
is married to a swan
down the anchor
let fall my grief
a poor man glad to have
a lobster with
my wife
last night the white
kiss of winter
an owl in two or three places
two or three idle people
and you bigger than fear
like a bonfire in the street
we loved in the fewest words
fickly
demandable
loath to speak with one mouth
red and full of evening
where I carried a cross like a prize
where I bled ink and coffee
where it all evened out
with war for discourse
I spoke but did not see
but at night in the garden
I thought of you
will the missing kiss
grow on his lip
like a difficult word
is love is a hard game to play
or an inconvenience
on the way to sleep
or to my mind
a great delirium
between joy and concern
We were alone
in the darkness
on the top deck
of the ferry
coming back
from Shikoku,
the two
of us wrapped
in a single windbreaker,
me thinking
about the ex-governor
who had sailed
a thousand
years before
into this same
headwind,