From Parted Lips

what are my solitudes
these large eyes
elephant-like peering
in my stead

there are four questions
but I ask only one:

If love were placed upon a marble
tabletop by fifteen
sentries of the high honorable
provincial ministry
wrapped in imported banana leaves
sprinkled in myrrh
so near from ear to ear
the ravenous vines of nothingness
escaping through the porous foliage
and inside lain
assunder unspeakable dreams
torn fragments of four Iliads
sensual flavors of perfumed skin
and the taste of desperation
of life moving so quickly
towards its end

would you let me
take it in my warm
hands and delve
in?

don't assume you will answer
with a sudden sense of candour
as though each moment were truly
made of the hardy gravity
of elephant tears

don't assume yes

don't assume anything
but know that I ride
waves of time's exigencies
with unusual ease and
my tastes swelter in
Suns unseen since summer
dwelled in Sumerian sleep

yes
history swells alive
and those stories of love
are stories

(yes)
but their swirling motions
are vibrant seasons
unending

cycles

so I won't assume yes
anything until I hear
parted lips speak