i confess a fear so boring it masquerades
as dullness often sits in the place
where you ought to be
and i make myself into a drudging thrall
all the time you're loving me
with your mouth you made love to me in the deepest
most unspeakable places
in a little bower
in a tiny corner far from
foolish crowds you held me, spelled me
told me
that there is a way out of madness
there is away out of all this
foolishness
a pillar of cloud by day
and a pillar of fire at night
and if your sight fails or
you stumble a bit, drunk and tired and
stubborn a bit
it does not matter
and in these latters days i've been
on this slow, winding path