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.