What is the measure
of this dislocation
that I know myself
best in anger.

But note another
sign:
of dry mouth,
sounds collapsing in throat,
mind dismayed
at the weakness of anger
to make myself
understood.

No eloquence comes,
only wholeness
in that instant.
It is the measure
of what I know
I know.

early 1970s

The Chain

By gripping my eyes
in helpless insistence,
I see what is needed

instead of what be-
fore them is behind them,
forever and for
now.

For friends who will not
touch,
insolence
is my only clothing.

Forever forced, I am
lost in the needle
of these
eyes' demands,

squeezing mud
and scurrying to perceive.

early 1970s