Here
I am again at the sluggish river
Clammy as an August night stifled and bemused
With
the tip of my glowing tongue
I
write your name in the air
My
desires flutter from my mouth
My
delicate desires
They
never manage quite to cross the river
I
am held by star-thread always exactly
Three
inches off the planet
In
my role as a celestial body
Of
course you say I lack the proper gravitas
My
laughter intoxicates the potbellied moon
All
the trees all their boughs all their leaves
Lean
in the direction of your impending arrival
You
of the fragrant fume you of dour questing
When
may I offer you
The
virtuous imperfections of my voice?
When
may I give you
A
few grains of dust more or less?
Fireflies
wallow in drunken shadows
Fireflies
perfume the woods with tiny farts
No comments:
Post a Comment