Sunday, January 13, 2008


But at least my head is clear enough to write for a change...
Or not. You tell me...


You say you love me just the way I am.
To me that only proves you live by faith,

However little you yourself may think it.

We may have a chance, if we both do.

I study you to learn love’s wild new grammar:

Not the same, the same in every way.

A horse led to the water, I would drink,

Drink deep, indeed, to plumb the depths of you.

My love is blind, blinds me, and though it damn
I will seek to live it out each day,
To sing your blues, see when you’re in the pink,

Hold every last shred up to loving view.

Then I will know if I can brave the deeps:

The wiser man will look before he leaps.


My lover’s at a party, and I sit at home alone.

Sick as a dog, and feverish, I long for him to be

Here with me, for I could not drive out there to be with him,

To let him make all right again, to have him, balls to bone.

What is this deeper sickness that has long infected me,

Made every fluid poison, made my sight and hearing dim—

Unless it’s his, it’s him I see and hear. His heart of stone

Has warmed, but mine is lava now, and sears me as it beats.

Come to me, love, come to me soon, and hold me, every limb,

So I can set your flesh on fire, can hope your heart has grown

As hot as mine at last, so they may meet and merge and see

A future where the two are one, and every song a hymn.

I know my hope is foolish, and my heart and I are fools.

Come to me, then, sweet man of men, before my own heart cools.


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