Nov 132013
The way summer nights round down to a hue,
A single color of final manifestation, fixed,
Where imagination and reality are one--

Stars drawn, line by line, into the story, into tale and fable.
Horses or men, or half-horses reared, become
Arrowy men shooting stars through the astral spheres....

How sky's dulcet dark permits our dovish conjurations
To be true!  How, for a moment, the imagined you
Lowers herself before me on her hands, how I 

Rear, half-horse, half-star, beyond swept horizons
Of soapstone shoulders no daylight adorns;
How, for once, dark selves and dark desires occupy

The same perceived place, apparent time.
How night and we, in the romp of summer,
Round down from trio to duo to one

Transparency of liquid chalk, one outline of love.

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