The moon comes down through the ornamental cherry tree.
Moves across my window like a woman from pain to pain.

I begin to notice who I am pretending to be.
Believe again there is another world
inside this hollow one.

Watch desires come to the window and disappear into distance.

Everything is a substitute for love.
My hand is in your hand until your hand becomes my own.
Even love is also a substitute for love.

The moon floats in a pan of dog water.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s