I Put The Gold Star Up In

Let God Be Some Tribal Female Who Is Known But Forbidden.

I Have Forgiven All The Old Actors For Dying. A New One Comes On With The Same Lines, Like Large White Growths, In His Mouth. The Dancers Come On From The Wings, Perfectly Mated.

Poetry To Me Is Prayer.

All Day I've Built A Lifetime And Now The Sun Sinks To Undo It.

You Who Have Inhabited Me In The Deepest And Most Broken Place, Are Going, Going