By the river
where we went under
our spirits stroll
hand in hand--
through the tall grass by the river
where our bodies lost each other,
down the long banks of the river
where we drowned
broken and rushing
like branches after storm,
helpless and swirling
branches in the river.
To a Lady
Dear lady, by your fingertips
you rhyme me to a feather.
I run the rapids of your arms
from here to Minnesota.
You sun me bright, you sigh me on
till half of Iceland's burning.
I bless you for your leafy ways.
My breath be all you're wearing.