A Night Note
I am sleepless like the Ganges flowing at the ghat below.
All night long the traffic of lanterned boats and snuffed out
Bodies keep me awake. No dreams or nightmares intrude
The slap of water on the steps.
Only fog as it rises off the water to efface The quarter moon, Your face, your voice, your embracing arms, And then my memory of all these memories of you.
When tomorrow comes, come to bury your hands In my ashes, and bury my ashes in those waters.
You may view this photo for an approximation of the mind image
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An Evening Note
Every evening I am a freighter
Tracking the darkness as
It falls over these wharves
Scanned, perhaps, by your
Trackless, and thus lost, eyes.
Scribbled in response to this photo
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Permanent Center of Gravity
Heart in summer
Walks into in fields
Of wild poppies,
And becomes a bottle
That holds the old ink
Pressed from
Gauzy skirts of their petals
Waving in the wind;
One continuous flag
For Hypnos,
The god of sleep
In whose arms
Loveless fitfully sleep.
It is only when The bottle breaks open And every Beatrice dips Her hand right into The heart of the heart To reveal the silence That abides within, Does the heart find Its permanent center Of gravity To fall into, fall towards.
Written in response to this photo by Elle
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