I suppose it hasn’t been easy living with me either,

with my piques, and ups and downs, my need for

[privacy

leo pride and weeping in bed when you’re trying

[to sleep

and you, interrupting me in the middle of a thousand 

[poems

did I call the insurance people? the time you

[stopped a poem

in the middle of our drive over the nebraska hills and

into colorado, odetta singing, the whole world 

[singing in me

the triumph of our revolution in the air

me about to get down, and you

you saying something about the carburetor

so that it all went away 

but we cling to each other

as if each thought the other was the raft

and he adrift alone, as in this mud house

not big enough, the walls dusting down around us

[a fine dust rain

counteracting the good, high air, and stuffing our

[nostrils

we hang our pictures of the several worlds:

new york collage, and san Francisco posters,

set our japanese dishes, chinese knives

hammer small indian marriage cloths into the adobe

​

we stumble thru silence into each other's gut

blundering thru one wrong place to the next

like kids who snuck out to play on a boat at night

and the boat slipped from its moorings, and they look

[at the stars

about which they know nothing, to find out

where they are going