I love you terribly, and because of it I am become completely impotent. And I love you impotently, And that is a terrible thing to behold. I love you patiently Because the root of me is a grave impatience, And I love you impatiently Lest the present root begin to die in earnest. My flesh loves the scarlet sin in all of you; Being that itself is made entirely of ruby-blooded flesh. And my spirit loves the resounding hollowness Of your souls thin, empty rails.
My love is an imperturbable being That is too soon ground beneath your wheel, like an acorn; And it is an impenetrable wheel Which pulls me under, on it's return travel around. This love is a decomposing hand That's rising up fist-like, out of a newly closed grave To grab my ankle as I run past, trying to scream out your name, Through some shadowed cemetery, at some ungodly hour In a world that looks suspiciously like this one.
And this love is a panting hound, Trying to rebury its last remaining bone scrap of hope With two lame legs impeding; While this love, a one-eyed crow Sits taciturn in a tree, just above a tiny, dead sparrow- And fluffs its jet feathers, unconcernedly.