How humid the heart, its messy rooms! We eat spicy food, sweat like wood and smolder like the coal mine that caught fire decades ago, yet still smokes more than my great-uncle who will not quit- or go out-

Deep SongBelief is what buries us—that& the belief in belief—No longerdo I trust liltlessness—leewardis the world'sway—Go onplunge in—the lungs willlet us float.Joy is the mile-high ledgethe leap—a breathabove the lip of the abandonedquarry—beliefthe dark the deep.

It never ends, the bruiseof being

Like hot foodI love youlike warmbread & coldcuts, buttersammichesor, days later, afterThanksgivingwhen I wantwhatever's left