Eternally grateful

“I’m waiting for you, I’m waiting for the evening calm, I’m waiting for our time, the oblique light, this pause between day and night. Peace will come, surely. But I can imagine no other peace than that of our two bodies bound together, of our gaze given over to each other - I have no other homeland but you.”

“There was one summer that returned many times over there was one flower unfurling taking many forms Crimson of the monarda, pale gold of the late roses There was one love There was one love, there were many nights Smell of the mock orange tree Corridors of jasmine and lilies Still the wind blew There were many winters but I closed my eyes The cold air white with dissolved wings There was one garden when the snow melted Azure and white; I couldn’t tell my solitude from love— There was one love; he had many voices There was one dawn; sometimes we watched it together I was here I was here There was one summer returning over and over there was one dawn I grew old watching.”

Crimson of the monarda, pale gold of the late roses

Seraph of Heaven! too gentle to be human,

                                              Hair unpinned the great night swift over your body jar of hot wine                             spilled

First isolated moments

“It’s not ‘natural’ to speak well, eloquently, in an interesting articulate way. People living in groups, families, communes say little–have few verbal means. Eloquence–thinking in words–is a byproduct of solitude, deracination, a heightened painful individuality.”