Thistles,
\npale as rinsed, blue sky,
\ntall as slender girls.
\nTouch-me-not flirts
\nin the naked meadows
\nof the sun.<\/p>\n
I look about,
\nremembering your faces,
\nnot to forget
\nthe hour of your garden.
\nEverything now, cashing in.
\nThe wild wilderness of summer,
\nlovemaking in the rain,
\nthe solitary dreams
\nof shadow naps, join
\nthe tick-tock rhythms of decline.<\/p>\n
The breathing of the day slows
\nwith the diminution
\nof love and sex.
\nStarry forget-me-nots wink out.
\nWho can forget the emptied glass,
\neyelids closing,
\nwhere you were
\nwhen the moon fell
\nlike a flaming orange?<\/p>\n
Autumn chrysanthemums,
\nso lavish,
\nso rich,
\nthey are the lava
\nof a final eruption,
\na volcano blooming
\nin the throes of our extinction.
\nBut I will come back
\nabove the twilight of the snow,
\nthe darkness of the dunes,
\nand call out all your names,
\nwanting your embraces,
\nthe passion of our lives to be
\ntogether once again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Thistles, pale as rinsed, blue sky, tall as slender girls. Touch-me-not flirts in the naked meadows of the sun. I look about, remembering your faces,…<\/p>\n