We’ve been making love as in a book of hours
Under a blue and white paper sky
The birds won’t stop explaining the universe
If you stop your ears you will hear the spring
This is a mind pretending not to exist
See how it sways in the breeze when you look
Just like the bright, scratchy weeds along the side
Of the house as it slants into the fading light
Now the whole mind has turned a dark burgundy
With a sea of fuchsia at the bottom
One with the purposes of death and dreams
And just about as well understood
Abstract dolphins splashing around in canals of light
A massive sunflower rising out of the sea
The infinite green of your eyes under the sun
The prows of the black ships pointing away toward eternity
The days come to us and we traverse them naturally
As the glass of water posed on the nightstand
Ultimately belongs and must ultimately return to water
We’ve got maps to the Hollywood of the mind
But a private sea we enter with a breath, breathlessly
A permanence without substance
That lurks within the most distant solitudes
It is like walking in the darkness
And climbing up into an apartment of sunlight
The wood floors are freshly washed and smell of pine
And now we are waking to the noises of the city
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