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often when he was advancing feeling his way in the night he was doubtful rebelled wanted to climb back up to the old light but a force held him enjoined him to pursue to venture once more once again into the thickest darkness of his shadow one day at the height of his distress emptied of all force driven to see that the inaccessible would not yield he admitted that he must renounce it to his great surprise without his having to take a single step he crossed the threshold came into the light

oh antic God return to me my mother in her thirties leaned across the front porch the huge pillow of her breasts pressing against the rail summoning me in for bed. I am almost the dead woman’s age times two. I can barely recall her song the scent of her hands though her wild hair scratches my dreams at night.   return to me, oh Lord of then and now, my mother’s calling, her young voice humming my name.

Oh fairest of the rural maids! Thy birth was in the forest shades; Green boughs, and glimpses of the sky, Were all that met thine infant eye. Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child, Were even in the sylvan wild; And all the beauty of the place Is in thy heart and on thy face. The twilight of the trees and rocks Is in the light shade of thy locks; Thy step is as the wind, that weaves Its playful way among the leaves. Thine eyes are springs, in whose serene And silent waters heaven is seen; Their lashes are the herbs that look On their young figures in the brook. The forest depths, by foot unpressed, Are not more sinless than thy breast; The holy peace, that fills the air Of those calm solitudes, is there.

Oh, fly, you flew onto my leaf and not my food. What a relief! For on my food you'd bring me grief as you're a vector of disease. But you on leaf? My mind's at ease. And there is much to please my eye. For oh, you are a lovely fly. Just do not go and multiply.

Oh, for a bowl of fat Canary, Rich Palermo, sparkling Sherry, Some nectar else, from Juno’s dairy; Oh, these draughts would make us merry! Oh, for a wench (I deal in faces, And in other daintier things); Tickled am I with her embraces, Fine dancing in such fairy rings. Oh, for a plump fat leg of mutton, Veal, lamb, capon, pig, and coney; None is happy but a glutton, None an ass but who wants money. Wines indeed and girls are good, But brave victuals feast the blood; For wenches, wine, and lusty cheer, Jove would leap down to surfeit here.

spilling water from my back, you call and i come. that exhausted walk to reach you breathless and no i didn’t run to see you, i’ve been smoking too much, same thing. another awkward hug in the car as my face smashes your cheek that i can feel it leaving now is the saddest, a beautiful eruption you could have picked it off the tree and chowed but you weren’t hungry. feeling it dying away all day much worse than the straining against the leash, another gorgeous thing that should not have happened, gone again.

In the name of Raven. In the name of Wolf. In the name of Whale. In the name of Elephant. In the name of Snake. Who have taught us. Who have guided us. Who have sustained us. Who have healed us. Please heal the animals. In the name of Raven. In the name of Wolf. In the name of Whale. In the name of Elephant. In the name of Snake. Whom we have slaughtered. Whom we have feared. Whom we have caged. Whom we have persecuted. Whom we have slandered. Whom we have cursed. Whom we have tortured. Protect the animals. In the name of Raven. In the name of Wolf. In the name of Whale. In the name of Elephant. In the name of Snake. Whose habitat we have stolen. Whose territory we have plundered. Whose feeding grounds we have paved and netted. Whose domain we have poisoned. Whose food we have eaten. Whose young we have killed. Whose lives and ways of life we threaten. Restore the animals. In the name of Raven. In the name of Wolf. In the name of Whale. In the name of Elephant. In the name of Snake. Forgive us. Have mercy. May the animals return. Not as a resurrection but as living beings. Here. On earth. On this earth that is also theirs. Oh Great Spirit. Heal the animals. Protect the animals. Restore the animals. Our lives will also be healed. Our souls will be protected. Our spirits will be restored. Oh Spirit of Raven. Oh Spirit of Wolf. Oh Spirit of Whale. Oh Spirit of Elephant. Oh Spirit of Snake. Teach us, again, how to live.

Oh, how the hand the lover ought to prize ’Bove any one peculiar grace! While he is dying for the eyes And doting on the lovely face, The unconsid’ring little knows How much he to this beauty owes. That, when the lover absent is, Informs him of his mistress’ heart; ’Tis that which gives him all his bliss When dear love-secrets ’twill impart: That plights the faith the maid bestows, And that confirms the tim’rous vows. ’Tis that betrays the tenderness Which the too bashful tongue denies; ’Tis that which does the heart confess, And spares the language of the eyes; ’Tis that which treasure gives so vast, Ev’n Iris ’twill to Damon give at last.

I came from Alabama wid my ban jo on my knee, I’m g’wan to Louisiana, My true love for to see, It raind all night the day I left The weather it was dry, The sun so hot I frose to death Susanna dont you cry. Oh! Susanna Oh! dont you cry for me I’ve come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee. I jumped aboard de telegraph, And trabbelled down de riber, De Lectric fluid magnified, And Killed five Hundred Nigger De bullgine buste, de horse run off, I realy thought I’d die; I shut my eyes to hold my breath, Susana, dont you cry. Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me I’ve come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee. I had a dream de odder night, When ebery ting was still; I thought I saw Susana, A coming down de hill. The buckwheat cake war in her mouth, The tear was in her eye, Says I, im coming from de South, Susana, dont you cry. Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me I’ve come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee. I soon will be in New Orleans, And den I’ll look all round, And when I find Susana, I’ll fall upon the ground. But if I do not find her, Dis darkie ’l surely die, And when I’m dead and buried, Susana, dont you cry. Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me I’ve come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee.

And slowly we’m sweethearts atween the wet grass all river-licked, lime dust in our hair and both of us so frightened, blind as moles. But wanting something. Wanting. We’m side-by-side on the grass, me barefeet in the water, bowing our heads, gentle as osses at the water trough. I can feel his shoulder ashiver and it makes me bold, makes me jumpy, so I hold out me ond till he takes it and kisses the palm like he’s eating sugar from it and we’m off ...