Posted: Jun 20, 08 11:10am

i have run my fingers round the inside surface of desire

feeling the roughness there like calcified longing

i have taken my blank-faced sandpaper to it

and in the haze of pale dry dust that made me cough

i have smoothed out the roughness and irregularities

until by feel alone i could finally sense my reflection there

...

so it is

desire is a sculpture like a picture frame for sunlight

when only the opulent light of the penurious moon is available

and it is a crime to say "only" about that light

but as i have seen the sunflowers turning in confusion

with their dark dreams of stifled hopes uprooting their minds

you will simply have to forgive me

and not speak to me or interfere

as i hang my sculpture as a wreath upon the last mile marker -

marked "sine die",

as if the pun were only natural to an english speaking soul

in a quantum world.