i have been hurt so many times
in predictable ways as the years
proceeded towards the horizon
as if they were determined to find
what was waiting at the edge–
perhaps disaster lurked there, the charred
aftermath of pompeii, or something
more sinister, a sea full of jellyfish
doing ballet, bathed in eternal light.
meanwhile i grow sallow in the massachusetts
winter, much in need of sun. but
i remember now that we fit together
like a mortar and pestle and i dream that some day
we will lie together in the bamboo grove
in a sliver of sunset, our tongues in
each other’s mouths, my statue of Dewi observing
how the mist wraps like gauze over our wounds
as we heal each other with sunlight and shadows
shaped and reshaped with love
more voices in the mist 
the exploding mask has been removedmy mouth openedwidein fascination and awebest described as volcanic erotic it is easy to be beautifulbut difficult to appear that waythe lupanare with its paintingsand graffiti makes balletseem like a handrail to hell (loose translation)If anyone is looking for some tender love in this town, keep in mind that here all the girls are very friendly especial in the winter snow and cold into flowers, into women, too stunnedto think of strength, but, hidden isa small mound under linenlike the drifted snow Priapus with his extremely enlarged …..was covered with plasterand only rediscovered because of the rain Pompeii and circumstance