I'll Be Looking At The Moon, But

Water Is The Exile, Carried Back In Cans And Flasks, The Ghost Between Your Hands And Your Mouth.

In The Desert You Celebrate Nothing But Water.

There Are Betrayals In War That Are Childlike Compared With Our Human Betrayals During Peace. The New Lovers Enter The Habits Of The Other. Things Are Smashed, Revealed In A New Light. This Is Done With Nervous Or Tender Sentences, Although The Heart Is An Organ Of Fire.

A Man In A Desert Can Hold Absence In His Cupped Hands, Knowing It Is Something That Feeds Him More Than Water.

When We Are Young We Do Not Look Into Mirrors. It Is When We Are Old, Concerned With Our Name, Our Legend, What Our Lives Will Mean To The Future. We Become Vain With The Names We Own, Our Claims To Have Been The First Eyes, The Strongest Army, The Cleverest Merchant. It Is When He Is Old That Narcissus Wants A Graven Image Of Himself.