123 To Maria Tightly holding on to his body with your arms and knees -- His hardened tar in your porcelain cup, Your boiling milk in his ebony jar -- On the motorcycle along the highway -- You will be. Cutting through the air with the rush of words, the speed of eyes -- His ravens falling to rest on your snow, The blinking white of your flame on his coal -- Open to the rain and the sun, and laughing -- You will come. Choking with the sky, and resounding to the roar of race -- His night awaked by the light of your skin, Your paper marked with the black of his ink -- Rushing from the east to the west, and raving -- You will stay.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems