On this cold november night darkness comes early calling for a quiet, solitary celebration: a hot bath, candles a glass of wine. As the water covers me, my eyes close temporarily and in that brief moment, that transcendent moment I see a white rhinoceros. I don't know what it means. It doesn't matter. It only matters that I saw him.
december / nineteen eighty seven ... not wanting him buried in bare feet ... we were sent off to buy a pair of socks / black, preferably ... carried them back to the funeral home ... like the sacred objects they were
... within the call of a whippoorwill just before daybreak ... my back porch bedroom as a child ... the bedroom of the man I thought I'd love forever ... my bedroom now / in this little house near the river
... driving through northern new mexico ... shiprock forever in the distance ... my heart's been in my throat for a very long time ... another hour and I'll head north ... camp along the san juan river / fall asleep at dusk ... pretend I'm not one of the lonely ones