I could almost see ahead of me
a night of drink, perhaps love
a night of drink, perhaps love
how many like me have come home
cold and dead from such nights
from such love
I could nearly see ahead of me, stars
bleak horizon and the jagged lost line
of inkblack mountain
from that darkness emerged
dark fountains, flowers found,
the faces of women
seem so beautiful,
sensuous us
though half blossomed,
faded and failed
in that nameless instant, now
just us
you and I in this unpieced place
where unknown
we fall into the eye of the unnamed
you and I in this unpieced place
where unknown
we fall into the eye of the unnamed
after all this, death, half-funny
another daze demised
sculpture not carved of stone
but of prayer, and blame,
of glass
anonymous death, half-funny,
half lame.
that much, at least,
was unanimous.
when nothing lasts,
anonymous death, half-funny,
half lame.
that much, at least,
was unanimous.
when nothing lasts,
nothing comes
awfully fast
.
