You eclipse me & I have stained the Sun with black love . . . death from a bottle cools my ardour for a while, until I see you again. The damp distance is bleached then blackened with shadows & flocks of shrill birds, screaming for blood Bound hands grow swollen body – silently numbed a bed on fire I laid upon now reddened with burning life In these blistered hours of insomnia objects are like lead I believe they are other things & less than they are as if fewer of them would create a stillness like sleep — if only to dream of her again The cushions beckon in the mirror white & summoning, judicious the bed reflected in that fantasy land, that round pool of hope Why stir dust on a sacred tomb as I lay down with a prayer for darkness a snowflake melts on her virgin eyelids somewhere & now, together again we drink every breath of poisoned air she asleep, I awake . . . Not believing in resurrection — I stroll through cemeteries looking for her name, not wanting to see i...