Tuesday, November 22, 2005


Yuletide, and for an instant, I reside with you
A barren decade has passed and you mock me
With your fecundity. And I am frozen, frigid

And summertimes and rich, red wines
Have never seemed so far away, so distant
So unreachable and I don my disguise

I conceal my face, my eyes from you
And I weep soundlessly behind my mask
Ivory, elegant but built on swampland

I make myself one-dimensional
Sealed off from the world, living with darkness
I subsist on it. There will be no uproar here

It stifles the windstorm within
Concealment, not enlightenment is our aim
And simplicity is my game.


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