Bill Z Bub18 Apr 2003

I thank you. Thank you.
You are a warm bath
on a cold winter night.
The way she parts the sea
with sculpted knee,
and rolls back
and runs fingers along
rivulets of wax
that speak of memorable nights

It's automatic.
Can't stop placing
simple words, each after another,
and sigh sadness...
There is such an immense sadness.
Can't you see it? Are you the one?
Here, let me guide your hand
to my brow,
cool against this broken field.
Sometimes I use it as a shield,
to hide from the acidic sun.
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I don't know what that was