...i Am The Immense Shadow Of My

Night Of Sleepless Love The Night Above. We Two. Full Moon. I Started To Weep, You Laughed. Your Scorn Was A God, My Laments Moments And Doves In A Chain. The Night Below. We Two. Crystal Of Pain. You Wept Over Great Distances. My Ache Was A Clutch Of Agonies Over Your Sickly Heart Of Sand. Dawn Married Us On The Bed, Our Mouths To The Frozen Spout Of Unstaunched Blood. The Sun Came Through The Shuttered Balcony And The Coral Of Life Opened Its Branches Over My Shrouded Heart.

Angel And Muse Approach From Without; The Angel Sheds Light And The Muse Gives Form (hesiod Learned Of Them). Gold Leaf Or Chiton-folds: The Poet Finds His Models In His Laurel Coppice. But The Duende, On The Other Hand, Must Come To Life In The Nethermost Recesses Of The Blood.

At Five In The Afternoon. It Was Exactly Five In The Afternoon. A Boy Brought The White Sheet At Five In The Afternoon. A Frail Of Lime Ready Prepared At Five In The Afternoon. The Rest Was Death, And Death Alone

The Two Elements The Traveler First Captures In The Big City Are Extra Human Architecture And Furious Rhythm. Geometry And Anguish.

The Snow Is Falling On The Deserted Field Of My Life, And My Hopes, Which Roam Far, Are Afraid Of Becoming Frozen Or Lost.