give them to her the invisible

give them to her
the invisible

give them like
sight

give them
like a sound

of a silence

in mornings

it is how
I do it

what is in
my heart

give it to her

the invisible

 

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in morning fresh and aching

in morning
fresh and aching

look among
imagery

the small hill
tops the

long curvatures
of sinew and

bone
and falling out

of myself the
invisible feeling

 

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go see her out of habit

go see her
out of habit

why is it
I must

listen
for her wings

to unfold?

 

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you look so pretty beneath the fan

you look so pretty
beneath the fan

I not want you to scribble
them things out

on the floor

I can hold
what you want me to

 

 

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if I could lean her into me

if I could lean
her into me

I’d have Springsteen
in my head

driving me
through her stars

in a Cadillac

 

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you can sing to me if you want to

you can sing to me
if you want to

I want the invisible

you can give it
to me

if you want to

 

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comes to sing to you

comes to sing
to you

inside yourself

give to you
the invisible

seepage
from the
body

that is not
so tangible

 

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