I can hear, underground, that sucking and sobbing, In my veins, in my bones I feel it,- The small water seeping upward, The tight grains parting at last. When sprouts break out, Slippery as fish, I quail, lean to beginnings, sheath-wet.

Love is not love until love's vulnerable.

Pain wanders through my bones like a lost fire

How body from spirit slowly does unwind, until we are pure spirit at the end.

Wake the happy words.

In the kingdom of bang and blab.

The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.