i’m sleep deprived again

February 7, 2007

writing too much
lately,
yes, i admit
it’s getting rather 
redundant
conversational things, really
imagining how it might
happen
this (next)
time,
how different it
will be.
T.S. Eliot keeps
scattering
his own love songs through
my head,
and i wonder,
“shall i, after tea and cakes and ices,
have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?”

“do i dare
disturb the universe?”

T.S. Eliot asked
a lot of questions
i wish i could have asked
him.

since it is
not
snowing,
we will not go for a walk.
i will touch the round head of
my wooden buddha,
the side of his face
shiny
where i have rubbed him
raw.
the smell of dying flowers,
decayed orchids
is a perfectly beautiful
albeit tiring
smell.

i wonder what
you’re up to,
i wonder
if it…well.
i wonder what 
your hands look like,
and the way
the sunlight touches your hair.

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