Oh how i remember that night which through you came,
frazzled grilled egg hair boiling coconut corn cornel and violin bow fray.
under a stalking cap of gold and maroon, and bundled in warm clothes and your home town.
The streets glistened in the snow freeze crunch and silk silent ice.
we shuffled and slid, wholly gay, under the misted breaths twisting from our mouths,
laughing, laughing, laughing -
how you knit your wool and i sprawled and threw gushing ink on the pages of a new journal -
as i soon would be in silent meditation over ten days to pass-
as soon we would become, on some washed and blessed night -
and you knit your wool and i sprawled and threw gushing ink on the pages -
and up so late we stayed moving through the cold and broken heat,
listened to sequin rainbow rain drop jazz and drew dreams -
and then it was cold and you went to sleep alone, and i the same, because we didn't
know if the other half wanted to sleep with us.
and we sleep cold, and you got sick after that night,
and i went to meditate for ten days
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