10

Walk with me in the morning,
That we both arise from sleep,
The winking clouds prohibited me,
An obstruction, where I was not to see.

Walk with me over the landscape,
Let the sun join us through an open window sill,
Never disable me from seeing,
Never let the wind crush my back and frost bitten chest,
Never let the sky pour its rain onto me,

Let my morning hands grow to you,
As a flower, fed from the enriching Sun,
That its rays find me.

Sleep with me in the midnight,
Breathe on me,
Mark my body with the scalpel of your mouth,
And never let me pierced by thorn,
Never let my back side brush against the harsh wood,
The cones that seep through my side,

Tickle me with your feet, petunias, rose blossom,
Stare onto me with the well defined eyes of the midnight,
Oh, and the way you curl you lips,
And your teeth bite the outside,
The method of your face,
The way it speaks,
So innocently,
Speaks to me,
When there is not a word to speak,
And the way you say that I love you.

Oh, how my head rests in your lap,
And how you massage my cheekbones,
With your rose scented palms,

Walk with me in the morning, and sleep with me in the night,
So that I may be present with you,
Never absent,
II


I had left, I had scarcely left a footstep or an imprint,
I had the tussle of leaves blown onto me;
A breath that had made itself absent from me at that night,
I supposed that I would sleep alone, and I would lie there,
On the dampened mattress and the putrid ceiling that cover,
Room, floor, door, wall,
I had left, but I never wanted it to be that you left,
Or that I left,
Because I had a clarity of vision,
That I would always walk amongst your footstep,
And I would always receive your mooned eyelids,
That sink into my throat,

I did not want to sleep alienated,
But it is only hope, that you wrote about,
And that I read from you,
That can not escape even the most dimmest,
The most mundane,
The rapturous thunder,
How its song like a sickle,
And made the winds churn into frightened distress,
I pull the covers down over my face,
With only the hope that you spoke of,
To enrapture me forever more,

But, I had left,
Scarcely marking an indentation into the ground,
I was absent from body or mind,
But I could not see you there,
I wanted you to be as the one that danced into the fields,
Of poppies, of marigold, of wheat,
And to sing a harmonious song,
That you are in tune with nature,
That you are the life blood of me,



III

You had woke sleep up with the moistened breath of,
Rainwater, garland, roselet, petunia,
I think that you had called my name,
Because you had seen me absent there,
That I was not of myself,
That I was nothing,
It seems that you were my rescue,
And that, if I was drowning,
And ocean breath filled my innards,
You would obtain me,
And your hands would sprout sunflowers,
And I would take them,
And I would be thrown onto the beach,
And how I would kiss you after the rescue of me,
And how I would,
And how I would always remember,
That you were the hope that was calling me from the crags of rocks,
And from the rays of sun,
That was ever so eagerly,
Trying to find its way amongst me.