For life, for this tonight, put away our intimacy;
Turn from the flower and embrace the stone.
You and I must make peace with the wreckage
Pushed aside by merchants and palm readers.
If not us, who? Courage stretches further
Than any hand that holds its longest hour.
I've grown sick eating the vomit of words.
Do not confuse me with sure joy.
Curve beyond desire and help shoulder
This forgotten weight the world needs shouldered.
In the morning we'll know a little more
Of this art of loving, of bowing to our service.
Nathan Woods, editor/overlord