(At The Crooked Dog)
                        At dawn, into the town I ride
                        I’ve aged a thousand years.
                        And here she comes, my erstwhile bride
                        And sings to me in tears:
My dove-gray steed Show me what I need Go! Wade in the seas But to your mane pay heed.
I tell her, buried in sadness and unease:
Your dove-gray steed Has shown what you need And waded in the seas But to his mane paid heed.


                        The moon has sent the pumpkins into bloom,
                        so huge and yellow, candle-lit inside
                        Only your breasts shine brighter in this gloom
                        Until my palms their luminescence hide. 


                        Pressed into you, my body tight with yours aligned
                        Against the tree, my hair with mistletoe entwined
                        My arms like branches tangling around you
                        My legs the tree trunk, split in two.
An oaken creature, palms of bark, like wires Trying to snare the stubbornest of dryads And rustle his way quietly inside. Then giving in, your head falls back, my bride,
And for the longest time you look up at the skies Where the moon's face, like a bloom, still shines. I kiss your neck, engraved with ancient marks
Inflicted secretly by someone else's blade. Then touch my trunk; the same marks there are made And you get smeared by searing, coal-black sparks


                        I dreamed a creek that teemed with slender trout
                        Your calves besieged by fins, like tiny oars.
                        Opposite shore, I heard the others shout
                        I would have chased them, not knowing they were yours.
Young boys they were, from clay house near this spot That used to take you on the threshing floor: Ruthless and rough, they always wanted more Flooding your buttocks, too swift and searing hot.
You stood in the stream. I wished to beat their hide But then I waded in, feet swift with lust And suddenly, you're virginal and white
Now don the roughest chaff I must To feel your body on the hard clay floor Like in a grave, you with me all the more.