They are there in every weather
in my imagination,
as they were in the mountain town

A millipede-thing the size of a Brahma bull is devouring
palm fronds that are longer than stretch limos.
He watches the multiplied sun along its segmented armor; then,

The sun goes, So long, so long, see you around.
And zone by zone by zone across America
the all-night coast-to-coast ghost café lights up.

My miracle cures left her of two minds. 
Pillowed in the bed, she would seem to be 
all acquiescence, even eagerness,

So bondage is a big part of it, after all—
that old art of rendering a lover submissive:
a tactic, a strategy. Denying somebody’s body

The record skips in the parlor
when the gurney wheels past.
Mother’s on her way to maternity.

When they knew what he had given them,
This florid colossus with the sunrise in his eyes
And skin the color of perfectly ripened fruit,

I turned forty the year I wrote it
  all down, every bit
  I could remember:

Sluice me, stop my breath—still my 
  life to this, my fist 
taut, a hand of fingers feeds my 

Karen made a poem
walking to rehearsal
about children making angels