I will wear you out if it is good to wear you out
Address me like a letter bomb
So when I address you
You don't read my message
From the trees, from the grooves, from the fountains
the brides are compelled to a weaver's shed.
Who are you with queer workings that detains
ghosts, leaving chores, to observe you instead?
Nightfall is a mountain heap of ashes
for the day is a legendary bird.
Cinders sedating the world to slumber,
remains on which an enmassed sleep cashes,
You can hear the dream for tonight bleating;
don't you understand? for you are asking,
in doubt of my love, if I do or not
love you. If you know the throats I have cut,
The revenge of a rose
is in the promise of beauty
for the wrath of beauty
is in the awareness of totality.
The progenitors are the past of the future,
but coming and goingthe children come after them,
and what comes after trails
and what trails is behind.
The embodiment of beauty
is unmasked in your face,
Two new moons are formed
when a circle eclipse a circle.
When two revolutions have a set
If love is true, could it this be
this unheedful happiness stirring in the bones,
like honey stirring in your joints...