From the top of the flight Of the wide, white stairs Through the rest of my life Do you wait for me there? There's a bell in my ears There's the wide, white roar Drop a bell down the stairs Hear it fall forevermore Hear it fall, forevermore Drop a bell off of the dock Blot it out in the sea Drowning mute as a rock; And sounding mutiny There's a light in the wings, hits the system of strings From the side, where they swing — See the wires, the wires, the wires And the articulation in our elbows and knees Makes us buckle; We couple in endless increase As the audience admires And the little white dove Made with love, made with love; Made with glue, and a glove, and some pliers Swings a low sickle arc, from its perch in the dark: Settle down, settle down, my desire And the moment I slept, I was swept up in a terrible tremor Though no longer bereft, how I shook! And I couldn't remember Then the furthermost shake drove a murthering stake in And cleft me right down through my center And I shouldn't say so, but I knew that it was then, or never Push me back into a tree Bind my bu*tons with salt Fill my long ears with bees Praying please please please love You ought not No you ought not Then the system of strings tugs at the tip of my wings (cut from cardboard and old magazines): Makes me warble and rise, like a sparrow And in the place where I stood, there is a circle of wood — A cord or two — which you chop, and you stack in your barrow It is terribly good to carry water and chop wood Streaked with soot, heavy-booted and wild-eyed; As I crash through the rafters And the ropes and the pulleys trail after And the holiest belfry burns sky-high Then the slow lip of fire moves across the prairie with precision While, somewhere, with your pliers and glue, you make your first incision And in a moment of almost-unbearable vision Doubled over with the hunger of lions Hold me close, cooed the dove Who was stuffed, now, with sawdust and diamonds I wanted to say: Why the long face Sparrow, perch and play songs of long face Burro, buck and bray songs of long face! Sing, I will swallow your sadness, and eat your cold clay Just to lift your long face; And though it may be madness, I will take to the grave Your precious longface And though our bones they may break, and our souls separate — Why the long face? And though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil — Why the long face? In the trough of the waves Which are pawing like dogs Pitch we, pale-faced and grave As I write in my log Then I hear a noise from the hull Seven days out to sea It is that damnable bell! And it tolls — well, I believe that it tolls — for me It tolls for me Though my wrists and my waist seemed so easy to break Still, my dear, I'd have walked you to the very edge of the water And they will recognize all the lines of your face In the face of the daughter of the daughter of my daughter Darling, we will be fine; but what was yours and mine Appears to me a sandcastle That the gibbering wave takes But if it's all just the same, then will you say my name; Say my name in the morning, so I know when the wave breaks I wasn't born of a whistle, or milked from a thistle at twilight No; I was all horns and thorns, sprung out fully formed, knock-kneed and upright So: enough of this terror We deserve to know light And grow evermore lighter and lighter You would have seen me through But I could not undo that desire Oh, oh, oh, desire Oh, oh, oh, desire Oh, oh, oh, desire Oh Desire, desire, desire From the top of the flight Of the wide, white stairs Through the rest of my life Do you wait for me there?