A House in Taos


Thunder of the Rain God:

And we three

Smitten by beauty.

Thunder of the Rain God:

And we three

Weary, weary.

Thunder of the Rain God:

And you, she, and I

Waiting for nothingness.

Do you understand the stillness

Of this house

In Taos

Under the thunder of the Rain God?


That there should be a barren garden

About this house in Taos

Is not so strange,

But that there should be three barren hearts

In this one house in Taos —

Who carries ugly things to show the sun?


Did you ask for the beaten brass of the moon?

We can buy lovely things with money,

You, she, and I,

Yet you seek,

As though you could keep,

This unbought loveliness of moon.


Touch our bodies, wind.

Our bodies are separate, individual things.

Touch our bodies, wind,

But blow quickly

Through the red, white, yellow skins

Of our bodies

To the terrible snarl,

Not mine,

Not yours,

Not hers,

But all one snarl of souls.

Blow quickly, wind,

Before we run back

Into the windlessness —

With our bodies —

Into the windlessness

Of our house in Taos.

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