The Things I Have Are Nameless, Old

O Do Not Weep, She Says, For Ages Past I Was And I Endure

Dead Men Would Start And Move Toward Me To Learn Of Love.

No Poetic Phantasy But A Biological Reality, A Fact: I Am An Entity Like Bird, Insect, Plant Or Sea-plant Cell; I Live; I Am Alive.

Long Hours Trail In Their Purple And Long Years Are Lost In Just This Moment While Our Souls Are Near, Our Mouths Separate.

There's A Black Rose Growing In Your Garden.