entering my book
where to be gone to
who among others to love
in their poor varnish
how to see at night
we loved in the fewest words
fickly
demandable
loath to speak with one mouth
red and full of evening
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
the pit is my guide
it rises from my own
make-believe sand
do I imagine a chance joy
or live with nature
having no cards for king and queen
the mark of the knave
is buying love
I find my wife in bed with the plague
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,
fine fish
from a wretched dirty sea
we bought four
easily persuaded almost to anything
offer us love
but never science
wrong the poor but make me thankful
for being at ease
head combed by my girl
to whom I am an ape
I rain down wool
having left my talk
I hear you who I am
newly present to
the plain life
of your heart is to me
as large as the weather
where we go together
to bed and so
to sleep
her mouth pretty as night
the rose I lock my mouth to
saying her fill
love could experiment
with her two bodies
could discover the way of milk
coming into the breasts
could invent tastes
or find a way to ferment a kiss
like a poet who never saw
a heart at rest
among the things I am
live many expressions of love
an art with great satisfaction
to me and my dog
taking the rope-maker
to his rope-ground
and the stove
to drink some light
we touch and see
how they speak of us
our hands
more than the mouth