93 I cannot lay you in the short stiff beds of words -- Your willful fancy of a fragile spark In your defensive litheness of the smile Upon your still and silent flint of hidden force -- Your lissome and evasive lunge of hungry flame To burn the paper with my wilting words And leave the ash of doubts upon the stone Of your intangible but stubborn pace ahead -- Your rock and fire ľ the ruthless magnet of your will, Igniting tacit syllables of flame To let me read the words which are inscribed in things -- Your fire and rock -- the warmth between the sun and moon -- Ineffable transition of your chase -- I can't lie in the words, I lay myself in you.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems