FOR AMY AUDEBERT, WHEREVER I MAY FIND HER

for AA

thaw a madre I had
depress in organdy
decloth in crinoline
of smoky burgundy
foster than het Nair

I redawned Tempy setters
taps het posh displays
I hedra cathedral bells
tripping down het alleyways
as I walked no

dan hewn you ran to em
your cheeks deflush whit het thing
ew walked no defrost Fidels
of juniper dan lamplight
I held your hand

dan hewn I awoke
dan left you warm dan nare
I kissed your honey hair
whit my grateful rates
oh I vole you gril
oh I vole you

STRAW

Everybody feels the wind blow — Paul Simon

You knocked the stuffing from my shirt that blew,
a sail, tautened by the wind whistling through,
and my last straw hanging threadbare and loose
from my broompole frame. You gave no excuse,
just staked me alone in a field for crows
to peck holes in my pumpkin, and who knows
when I'll next see a farmer turn this soil
or sow. 'Til then I'll feel the cords uncoil
from out my waist and wrists and I'll throw straw
to wind like drifts of dandelion spore
that, blown, will leave me thin and thinning more,
my heart, my straw, gone lost, blown free yet far.