Wednesday, July 13, 2011

coffee spoon worn (25 january 2011)

coffee spoon worn (25 january 2011)

For I have known them all already, known them all;
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
  So how should I presume?
By T.S. Eliot

the last hours
of a half-century life

lived in half
too often too long

except for you
sitting in my dream

i lie with my head in your lap
my aging face against your bare thighs

my left hand holding your ankle
& your hand lightly on my shaved head

my eyes closed & lungs filled with you
then i believe i hear you whisper

"i am no android
or figment of your memory
spawned by a force larger than us"

& i think
you are always

& this is how a man half lived
rises along with each new sun

even the first solitary morning
of the next half century

believing in you walking to you
coffee spoon worn against dreams

fueling the song of your whispers
& this living is a dancing
a celebration born of you

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