I Will Not Sleep Here

Two pieces cut from the same cloth

Two pages ripped out from the same book

We burn in distant fires

A frail corsage and a stone in a wayward flameAll for that unbreakable lady

Whom I approach with painted caution

Red pride, black guilt

And blue love on white sand

Blood is thicker than water

But both can go down the same drain

I'm sick of thinking about nightmares

And all the mysteries of sleep

Sapless visions of an old bearded man

With a bleeding eye, a sun-scorched brow

On a platter framed by both of his arms

He's kept awake by his knowledge

Is he a poet, a lover, or a priest?

Iokanaan, Antonius, and the bearded man sit on their hands

While I lay numb on a big bedBlood is thicker than water

But we go down the same drain