March 16, 2010

Here’s a taste of last fall. No time, no date. Just found this.

It’s nice to return home to heating,
But i’d rather eat in the cold kitchen with you.

We’d lay under clouds of breath beneath stars,
Resting, with the shuddering cool of calm.

It will start with your eyes,
I will see them behind our breath.
It will move to our thighs as hands clasp.

I will aspire to see as you see,
And you to see as i for eyes.
We should be fond of clouds,
From their imagery as our sighs.

I’d revel for eternity,
Turning up social-contexts
And viewing them upside down;
Feast as Bacchus on knowledge.

But for now i lay in such waste,
Direction is stale and brisk.
Mornings are early to rise,
And nights are late for sleep.

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