Monday, March 19, 2012


____Why do I tell you these things?
You are not even here.

from This Room ___ John Ashbery

we effected the a perfect escape

a kiss at the tramstop,

a lingering conversation riding our bikes home through the wind
and 2am darkness ,

lost in the hotel hallways : is that our room?, no i said,
but kiss me here anyway

___( i was soo beautiful and young
when naked, we swam in each other__)


her hair in the wind is a smeared halo

with that dress she's a tulip

her voice is sunday, always sunday


what beautiful silences we knew

how loud
what's left __of it)


how strange the sound:
my own memoryfantasy
how strange the sound.

1 comment:

Madeline said...

Everything you've written are lips on The Nature of Daylight- too bittersweet for words, pulling at every heartstring man is capable of having. <3