Tuesday, May 29, 2012

I turn about a shadow of my self

I turn about a shadow of my self
Pretending that the vibrant light I see
Is but the limit of a woman that
Is swaying on the top of a piano.

I put my nose into an older book
And sniff about the differing translations,
Stumbling over quotes of Cicero
That let me know I know nothing of virtue.

I read her skin; pronounce another poem
Into the pores and pour my breath about
Her form in a pathetic description.

Representing what? My self alone
Is but evaporated from an ocean
Extending beyond time to every shore.

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