Bed
May 4th, 2008
We lie miles apart
seconds in touch
I think about you
I wonder if we could be making love to Tom Waits
maybe I just listen to Waits too much
silence
Damn, my miserable want
or the Achilles of my lips
so warm with the hot breath of our embrace…
but not really.
in Naha, I’ll sleep in the palace of the shogun
with night and gale floors
and secret anti-assassination whispers
loud knowledge of clear intentions,
honesty of affection
I like my eyes,
dark, quiet, small and sad
porcelain white plate cool surface
to my baby octopi heart
blind temerity,
into blue fires I go
mastery is painful.
“The one who loves the least is master.” –W. H. Auden add to del.icio.us
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