I cannot change them,
I am told by you people
who apply the rule of leopards

Hidden, wrinkled as a flush violet wedged
Humbly amid the moss, it breathes
Still wet with love that leaves

Adam and Eve preferred the Tree of Good
and Evil to the fruits of infinity,
says Edward Dahlberg. Gustav Janouch observes

 That which rings and spins, that which is broken
and between, lingers behind the curtain. We were
a family business: My father, top and tails, sawing

 The idea is, it makes life easier
by giving the unwanted thing
a looser hold. Never mind

I am haunted by the names
of foreign places: Lvov and its bells;
Galway with its shimmer of green;

We open on a mystery,
a riddle has happened, will happen, will happen again.

What’s the point of experience

My index finger nestles in your hand.
You run a penknife’s blade beneath the nail.
Discomfort is a thing we understand.

More than the eyes looking back at you
More than the voice quelled in the throat
More than the bed and eider quilt beneath the window

 Stuff my eyes with clouds.
   Dangle tender mites above my lashes till
      the lids go lank