Our Marriage, Made in Heaven

To an old friend E. Eleven years of soft smooth skin Your hungry hands, Quiet, questioning, Waiting, tired Still a friend. Now this song Makes me Quiet, questioning, Wondering Why am I rooted in you? Are you my country...

Thus I crawl from one doorstep to another.
Waiting for the Death,
Hoping it will show up when I sleep.

I write to you pretending I wrote to no one in particular; as though we are strangers at last; Why then my heart is heavy when you replied, as though we will be strangers forever? One from the vault, scribbled heart...

I know this much. I am heading for ashes. Knowing this, Having known this for quite some time, I float above forms, And above objects with names. Now and then My eyes are caught, In her diamond looks, By her...

Went to bed last night, head heavy. Fighting off the day’s images, Of faces that wouldn’t smile, Of those that smiled excessively. Thinking to myself, “They all think I want something, why do they...

And so this poem ends
Like my pedantic poems
Unlike your fantastic ones