a blank page…

will you be what i want you
to be? or what could i want, is it begging
some meaning, like those times before
and time again; like those times i can remember
only vaguely now, though they will incessantly
exist? but that is your fault/though mine/though its only
how you called to me, or demanded, leaving me
reeling/leaving me stranded—and dont lie so! it is not i
who finds my existence in some attempt of muddling prose!
O, you who are here again/O lord that never left/what terror
do you show? what magnificent beauty to behold?
but i am getting ahead of myself again, aren't I/tell me/is that
what you meant? there is this
dream i keep having; the walls in the room
melt and mold around me—they want to tell me something—but
i dont notice/wont notice/cant see it because
in my dream i'll scream 'look at that bird and how she
sings!' because sure as you i want her to teach me/tho
unlike you O maze/O puzzle/O kingdom in all it's
pretentious rubble, i’ve decided she is gentle; and
would you like to be? gentle, i mean,
not 'could' never ‘should' it’s just that you
are so different lately.
and that bird
i can never hear her clearly, so i look for you
in the steps of my professor as she lives William Blake or
the madness of sweet Dido as
Aeneas seals her intentionally unintended fate; and
i’ll find you in the tree as it watches me pass by—
i can no longer speak to them now, but i know/i understand/i get it
okay—you still want me to try! and you love me best,
i know i know; there can be no better rest/no clearer
way to atone but 'what about the sun!' i’ll say, what of her
exquisite setting last wednesday? all she asked is that i behold
orange red splintering the icy grey-blue, and she beamed
and she blushed
and i didnt think of you then, not even once. would you
blame me for that? not 'could' never ‘should'
but i have to ask
because once i loved you best/once O word i held
you dearest above any in my breast yet! yet yet
i am changing and thus
you are different lately, and thus
what would you
want from me? because the sun,
as i’ve said, the sun/bird/tree merely love
the simple fact
of my existing.