I
How ardently your
red lipstick clings to the rim
of your coffee cup
II
Hard bread for breakfast
soup for lunch, rice for dinner
you nourish my soul
III
I ride the slipstream
I make, I do, I go but
I rest in your love
IV
I don't think
heaven is
above your head
it is somewhere
below
it is wherever
your feet fall
V
Writing verse
is a lot like
playing mah jong
it depends upon
the variations
the matches
what you take away
VI
I come to this stage
tugging at souvenirs
I change identities
and often
now a soldier
not a son
now a brother
not a priest
so many roles
and so much to do
today I wake you
with clarion calls
Tomorrow I will inflame and
hang the treasonous
but more even than that
I want this
to take my leave
of you
when I'm done living
your imagined lives
and start living
mine
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