She blends the futilities of existence in a cup of
Black sea. A forlorn afternoon stretched
To the rhythm of the chanson, echoing the throbbing of
The spoon passing between her fingers.
She sips in a hot and chill sample of this dusty world, lis-
tening to
The fatigued stories of love all around.
Smoke rises, permeated by the muddy thickness of existence.
Years and months roll in upon our confounded ignorance
The farther the navigating coordinates the harder to bear the
doldrums
An intimate body scent—stacked up somewhere with
A familiar air—flashes across the memory box.
An intimate body scent—stacked up somewhere with
A familiar air—flashes across the memory box.
Disturbed time and space now bounce, agitated,
Perchance to seek a rendezvous with yet another scar,
To drop long held-back tears on the rim of a bitter cup.
When returning birds peck on the rising moonshine,
Here crawl the longings of desire everywhere.
Restless loneliness becomes brusque,
Menacingly snatching from one another ragged comfort,
While the eyes of the poet in the corner alone meet
The lost Zen—or is it Buddhist?—
Paradise.
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