March 19th, 2003

Felt Inspired

Plath
{for my dear sweet friend with all my love}

Would that the screaming
of frozen rain on Yeat's attic roof
sing sweetly

That he had been promises
and not his shadowed breath

That the Primrose Hill ivy been the comfort
of loving arms
and not prison bars

Were that every room of your brain
be not cold
not padded
not barely alive

Were it enough
an imagination soaked in brandywine
to not feel the aching hooks
the salt and sea and brine in your veins
spilt amongst the pages just for my consumption

But the distortions of truth
and the jagged edges of disillusion
coming down like so many snows
and froze what was you
into me
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    Still Crazy After All These Years - Paul Simon
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