in the morning a new draft
of the lines in the body
I study hard to understand it
but desire brings many hands
and more than I expected
the letters feast or fast
love if convenient
would be high treason
a peace made on disadvantageous terms
with break-up and feud
a room is the last
enemy to all the world
falling from time
into desire
no hand or pinion
full of consequence
should crowd into
such a hole
I tend to my desire
with pictures of hands
like a tar merchant
greedy for the night
measuring pleasure I have found
thin things and fat
let desires not trouble me
which are too little for any use
but I must not blame now for never
the longest unpleasant afternoon
sun behind her dress
the lines of a hip
on a country evening
so content I hardly speak
a most troublesome fellow my head
aching to have the world
and knot it up
seeing all the disorder of desire
as a wing for love
Ice is an answer
to desire we will
not grant. I don
new fur, den up
against tomorrow’s din.
My wife is an oiled leg of church,
a long psalm,
sex the red letter I preserve
among my other prayers.
All day looking
at her body, a good ship;
his, a gilded well.
Dying
and desire
come to me
in other things.
I am falling into
a white sea, I am
fierce as ivy and very
big with child.
I expect to live
but continue
in pain.
So.
War is a dizziness,
desire is business.
My ink will be water
till night.
An ill fit for the church
of mathematics am I.
Show me what is lost by doubt
or a long-desired night.