"
Three years later, yet don't count on the date since our
calendar is relative, a tormented Eve, naked but not cold, wrote
these in a state of deep hunger. The Adam in her bed had gone
hunting. And, like a beauty sign on the face of the sky, the
Honey Moon was singing, "How does the poet feel in front of you,
inhabitants of Eden? Naked, she is completely naked in her
irrepressible nakedness, she feels naaaked..."
*
What We Call Bedtime Worries
They are some sort of feelings, thoughts or just figments of
ideas that some people cannot sleep on.
***
The following poems are connected to the above story.
*
A Poem To Eve
Open Doors
A windy hallway. Me, wearing a raincoat
And grabbing your Arm, Umbrella. A boat.
Parallel visions: sunshine in my right eye
Where the Emperor is bleeding: O, Helios, don't die!
Sunbeams in my fair hair. A Feast of Light.
I am soaked in my sweat. A Flesh Delight.
While baking in my own juicy despair.
I am a mellow Apple: O, Eve
To feel is to believe.
To give is to receive.
Go take that bite...and live!
Dark forest in my left eye. The hidden sky.
My hair is the dying fuse the waters reject.
A blue forget-me-not.
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