Aug 292011
 

Ideal and disposable, the idea of you
Rustles beyond my moony shoulder,
Amorous shadow of fictive love,
A dream demanded by the dove.
Shapeless bloods within me, grant
Dark nurture to this faithless plant;
Heart, beat on in dreamland to create,
Where a pink and rumpled pillow lies,
Nerves that throb in sympathy;
Create, heart, until I in moonbeams see
A second dreamer dreaming cordially.

New eyes open, asleep yet silvery.

Confessional moonlight's idyll
Which previously had bridled
In dry daylight's talk and squawk
Now lets our human arms console
Each other till the feeling's whole.
Let rosy midnight flicker on
Neon until the ending dawn;
Together in our sparkless darkness,
Exchanging jokes and mental missives,
Our only soft defense against
Outer Nature's rage: This is not this
Is wishing, wishing, wishing
Against compelling consciousness.
And our breaths' most secret heats,
Sirocco on rose-darkened sheets,
Whisper the stories of our souls
Where conceptual contrapuntal kiss
And simpler carnal lips may meet.

A new moon glimmers in the room.

By careful compact with the night,
Tangled breaths and traded hands
And tangoed bodies no longer stand
But lie as loving strangers might
Acquainted with mysteries of delight.
Side by side let us abide
Before that darling blonde, the dawn
Explodes and leaves in shards
The love we worked on oh so hard--
Let us have a meeting without an edge,
Nor wrestle with our conscience once
But play pillow-talk, be each a dunce,
Two drowsy loves, pale and veined,
A pair of frangible spirits' vessels
Laughing out the candles.

A new day glitters at the ledge.

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