Annie

Each day
under the cool sheets I feel your
soft pulse
I wake to you
and have for these many
days
never quite able
to figure
to say
Remembering the
First time
I touched the outline of
your
lips
I knew what the movement
Meant in the shadows

what
your
heartbeat
does
always
gratitude
of sighs
of tears
seems
mean

and yet
yet
there is
that moment
brief
as clarity
when
I feel
{what I think }
To be
the
unseen
back hand of God
and find
of course
it is
simply You

Dostoevskian fatigue

 

After an afternoon spent in furious debate with a French New wave scholar over the idea of Jerry Lewis as modern mainfestation of Dostoevsky's the Idiot or Holy Fool,the Blog author settles down to a much deserved rest.