for the goodfew


"like unto like" 
but do not say it
my forbidden simile

one is not immune to
jealous couriers who
come between lovers


Rice paper is thin

Tender words are never 
torn by an inked quill

wild tears fade 
sure words to guesses

distance reconciles 
murmurers with desire

duress strengthens 
supple resolve 

supple resolve
thickens skin 

thickened skin
feels the better 
when present 
loves caress


paper curtains
for ink yearn
their brush strokes 
burning stories 
do bear 
 

a fly
strolls a realm
just on the other
side of light

only silhouettes
guesses too
thrill at motion
so slight framed
in a window gray



in love with
small things
keep what
is seen where
hides the wind


Geese tell
of return and
so I will when
the burnt village
counts its embers
measured in hands

there are treaties

generals

gilded boxes
are exchanged
and the 
Mongol spices



no milk for her 
child the nipple
droops a sad
thing while dogs
run wildly about 




Hold Fast 
the greatest 
among us 

he knows 
only war which 
makes him great 
in one thing 
alone

I know  
of waiting

what the horizon 
safe keeps behind
its ear

of love, yes

.

your top knot my hand 
unknotting
your long hair my
scented bedding

sudden
startled
wildness of laps

the vase  
so very 
still

a clutch of stamens

*

I dream again
of moonlight
of sewing

that work of 
warriors naked 
needling seams

In this dream
I know the pattern well

so near to hand
a blessing

*

let the dead bury
theirs

his face
sleeps upon my
belly

I do not breathe
do not wish to disturb

*

Dawn just 

light fingers
trace in circles
each my
breasts

what tickles 
but a sigh interrupted  

*

In your sleep  

a gentle
boat slowly rising
with waves

the gentler subsiding

slides up

my torso 

to keel

to kiss

*
Never again will I go to war

*
I lie

*
Already 
the men are heavily gathering 
new arrows hot for flesh

*
only for yours I am

*

From childhood our song

"Hurry awake sleepy bee 
Softly sings the breeze 
To sweetness we are called..."


When the sun
is high 
shall be 
freshened 
with tears 
our parting


behind the barred door wait
a lock of wound hair
silk pouch of my gated heart
it will be a hard arrow to pierce it


*
Small boys 
muddy feet
chase behind
cheering
their innocent
fists raising threat

for them
such punctuation 
I regret 

*

only this

now

and at the end

to take a quiet supper
to hear the dipper spilling 
too full 
the deep well 
yielding

knowing a hand of dew
brings such sweetness wet, cool

wet