love crosses its islands,from grief to grief
it sets its roots,waterd with tears,
and no one-no one-can escape the heart's progress
as it runs,silent and carnivorous.
You and I searched for a wide valley,for another planet
where the salt wouldn't touch your hair
where sorrows coulden't grow because of anytyhing I did,
where bread could live and not grow old.
A planet entwined with vistas and foliage,
a plain,a rock,hard and unoccupied:
we wanted to build a strong nest
with our own hands,without hurt or harm or speech,
but love was not like that;love was a lunatic city
with crowds of people blanching on their porches.