WONDERFUL LIGHT IN YOUR EYES
The work of the poet
is one of the cobbler
making wearing and rapping
to the beat of the same old song
better in the worlds of useful things
is the warp in the tune that
makes you swoon
with ebvy and post-natal bepression
like jewish princes you walk
like the man on the hill.
It took not a sorrow of being
to make me understand that all was not
over here on earth
to be here and not there
on the spring of the morrow
makes the things of the past
seem alone again with you
in my arms like sombre
intentions and
unknown desires.
I will not be able
to make the enduring tidal
warping but I will
ask awhile for the use
of your
springs to make me
alive again.
