From the University of Michigan Union, Amer's on State Street, sometime in the middle of Chemistry Lab, a bedroom in Hells Kitchen, the bar at Leon on 12th Street, a night on Lake Minnetonka, an alley near Brick Lane, a laundromat on Santa Monica...

 

They have Large Tea here:
Behind a counter,
In a jar,
Out of my cup.

 

I will never see faces
Again until I see hers
Smiling up at me
One last time, and I know

 

A morning of lines, Greek,
fast, colored in a stench
of old worn-out night
like your favorite consecrated sweater.

 

How many times has
It been written: I sit here,
Staring at the page?

 

The pain is like a sickness
A catharsis and a
Deep fatigue after a nap

 

What I know is that
I want to hold her until
We sleep forever
And I dream of holding her

 

A stone, lying
free in Vertical Stubborness;
the boy looks once.

 

In Mountain Spring and April Fresh
Watches Altas,
Shrugging at her
Irresponsible trickery.