Wednesday, January 30, 2008

SONG of the GOAT...


I don’t know who I will be any more—
I see the self I shed and this poor “I”

That struggles from that skin into the sun,

But have no notion what will come in time.
My old self died in agonizing wars—

Though I know how, I’m not sure I know why—

This thing I am is born of “me” undone,

Ridiculous, it yearns for the sublime.

Is all flesh resurrected weak and sore?

Did He too falter when they touched His side

Though He commanded it? I long to run,
Can barely walk, yet know this life’s no crime.

Both life and love are spread by fond infection;

Love is the only source of resurrection.


Come lie with me, my love, come soon, and keep
Me from despair with sure and tender touch;

Tell me once more I am the only one;

Before we sink toward sleep, press skin to skin.

I long so much to feel your burning weight,

But, all undone, I find myself alone.

My lips long for your kiss, so rough and deep

I shudder, and my yearning fingers clutch

At air where you should be: No lover. None.

I’ve braved much deeper snow to seek my sin,

And need no crutch to go to meet my fate.

Deaf to your puns I’ll have you for my own.

For all my faults, for all my crimes committed,

I know when my heart’s garments are well-fitted.


If you left me tomorrow, if you fell
For some new madman who might cross your road,

If you returned to him whose place I took,
If you should prove less true than I must hope,

If death should part us when I need you most,

I’d still have had this year and all it brought.

I cannot say I know you awfully well,

But do know how you gently took the load

From off my heart and shoulders, as I shook

In lust, relief, and love. You gave me rope,

Ignored my keening claim I’m just a ghost,

And so, before I knew it, I was caught.

I wish I could make you some small return

For all you’ve given. Tell me, let me learn.


Three days and you’ll be here—hard to believe—
More than four days together in one place,

The two of us as one again. I long

To see you at my table, in my bed.

Without you by my side, I simply grieve.

I long to hold you in a tight embrace,

To feel your touch, so tender and so strong,

Faint echo of a life of joy ahead.

With all the ups and downs I can’t achieve

A state of calm, nor yet a state of grace.

It all feels right, yet something’s still all wrong—

For all the words I work, much goes unsaid.

Three days to wait for four, when two at last

As one will see the present trump the past.

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