I spring w bandini

I Schlegel in the midnight hegels

I dream of jeannie

I stand w standing rock

I eat w ahab and drink with houdini 

I settle by candlelight vigils
I convulse in the entrails of oregon rails

And green is the blue in the starling hearth

and the black on its back over croft and garth

And eloquent the cries of gjallarhorns at war

in the somnolent skies of faraway lore

With a fistful of doves and a few dollars more
There is still wordsworth, still derrida, mozart 

Because home is the spring of the morning I left
Eyelids filled w your face in the dark

Its the phantom limb still lodged in my skull 

Asleep in a bed now skulls apart

Is to whisper again what I said to you then
the sands in your eyes that live in my heart