for Bobbie br br br Yesterday I wanted to br speak of it, that sense above br the others to me br important because all br br br that I know derives br from what it teaches me. br Today, what is it that br is finally so helpless, br br different, despairs of its own br statement, wants to br turn away, endlessly br to turn away. br br If the moon did not ... br no, if you did not br I wouldn’t either, but br what would I not br br do, what prevention, what br thing so quickly stopped. br That is love yesterday br or tomorrow, not br br now. Can I eat br what you give me. I br have not earned it. Must br I think of everything br br as earned. Now love also br becomes a reward so br remote from me I have br only made it with my mind. br br Here is tedium, br despair, a painful br sense of isolation and br whimsical if pompous br br self-regard. But that image br is only of the mind’s br vague structure, vague to me br because it is my own. br br Love, what do I think br to say. I cannot say it. br What have you become to ask, br what have I made you into, br br companion, good company, br crossed legs with skirt, or br soft body under br the bones of the bed. br br Nothing says anything br but that which it wishes br would come true, fears br what else might happen in br br some other place, some br other time not this one. br A voice in my place, an br echo of that only in yours. br br Let me stumble into br not the confession but br the obsession I begin with br now. For you br br also (also) br some time beyond place, or br place beyond time, no br mind left to br br say anything at all, br that face gone, now. br Into the company of love br it all returns.