Another Winter
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If you think you can speak to me
I can speak to you
speechless and dumb:
speak to me, my
love, my silly fancy, do speak to
me like soundless
waters breaking on the rocks of
yesteryears like
whispers, like fragrances
like nonchalance — don”t
you know and can”t you see
and won”t you care what
ever happens to my folly
my images, my inanity?
Still you paint you honey faces across
bitter and acrid
tea cups as I start collecting my
soul around, the bits
and pieces of shrieks and laughter,
from the myriad
bedrooms of my dark and doubtful sins”¦
O! I say, don’t bla bla around our frozen
pastures, my
naked, bleeding ecstasy — don’t let’s
bleat around again
in pain, don’t let’s lock horns in
mutual, horny memories
***