And The Aura Of You Remains, Remains,

Today Is Made Of Yesterday, Each Time I Steal Toward Rites I Do Not Know, Waiting For The Lost Ingredient, As If Salt Or Money Or Even Lust Would Keep Us Calm And Prove Us Whole At Last.

I've Grown Tired Of Love You Are The Trouble With Me I Watch You Walk Right By

My Mouth Blooms Like A Cut.

No Matter Whose Bed You Die In The Bed Will Be Yours For Your Voyage Onto The Surgical Andiron Of God.

Pulling Off The Fat Diamond Engagement Ring, Pulling Off The Elopement Wedding Ring, And Holding Them, Clicking Them In Thumb And Forefinger, The Indent Of Twenty-five Years, Like A Tiny Rip Leaving Its Mark.