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Happiness (3)
- Wesleyan University Press
- Chapter
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you made my head a charcoal skull and even the skull is turned away no eyes The little, faintly blue clay eggs The little, faintly blue clay eggs in the real grass nest you made and sent to me by hand: It runs through my thighs, even now, that you thought of it! for a little while we thought of nothing else. Frozen little couple in caps, frozen beaks— Happiness (3) The moment you turned to me on W. 4th St. Your gentleness to me The hard winter grass here under my shoes The frost I knelt in the frost to your parents The warm light on the right hand side of your face The light on the Buddha’s eyelids new poems 17 I knelt to my parents Their suffering How much sleep there was in sleep How no suffering is lost Letter The hornet holds on to the curtain, winter sleep. Rubs her legs. Climbs the curtain. Behind her the cedars sleep lightly, like guests. But I am the guest. The ghost cars climb the ghost highway. Even my hand over the page adds to the ‘room tone’: the little constant wind. The effort of becoming. These words are my life. The effort of loving the un-become. To make the suffering visible. The un-become love: What we lost, a leaf, what we cherish, a leaf. One leaf of grass. I’m sending you this seed-pod, this red ribbon, my tongue, these two red ribbons, my mouth, my other mouth, —but the other world—blindly I guzzle the swimming milk of its seed field flower— 18 door in the mountain ...