Some times, i wish for winter For storms For god’s hand batting at plated windows and thick doors The restlessness and motion  

there is one man with a wicked face, perfect and stoney and one lost man, fighting like a dictionary. there is one man who forgot all his sloppy promises and one man who hates his desire for me, but has never let it go. another man was there at midnight, scared of his own shadow…

I once could tell which roads snaked to mountains Which struck out Bold and reticent, half melted in the desert’s high noon And too I could tell Once and for years Arroyos from the air River veins on valley floors This one flowing steadily That one dead now for years Missing floods and shouts from…