Shrinking desires,
Finite days?
I’m counting my sins
In old-fashioned ways,
Half-finished heaven,
World under construction,
Trying to keep fragments
From the voyeur of destruction.
Window spattered in raindrops
Sweetens imagination,
Memories better than Bardot,
Any Hollywood invocation,
Any Hollywood invocation,
Soul replacing the self,
Self-image of God,
Emerging from clouds
Up from the sod.
Roots in the soil,
Hard-worked hands to the sky,
Half-rendered horizons
Neglected enterprises.
Questions need answers:
What have I got from this life?
Deep celebration?
Or unholy strife?
Perhaps the heart can see rightly
That which the mind neglects?
But I still want your honey,
Still want your sex.
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