Love, the low light

When I was young
I never had any time for love
and now the moon no longer
tows at my blood

I’ve seen many days
of the fine and high lonesomes
since the heyday of my youth

Now I wait for love to get shed
of its hard ways, and make a bed
for a strange woman, but love has spread
its shade into the valley of my gut

Summer nights now I draw
blood from love’s bites
itching while I sleep, alone
without lotion or a fan
pain has become my lover

At dawn, my love is a captain
without a ship, the only instrumentation
the sad and imaginary sound
of its voice, love, with its own
words for music,  love, the low light
of a fairly good star
following the sad birds on their way
to some harbor somewhere east of Taiwan.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.