To J.


I believe in you.
You bare the wills of all music and demise in your voice
You’re the joy of every dismal muse
The very resonance of a colored melody,
Torn out from a thousand heartstrings
The impossible, but darling thing, for madness and nature to use.

And I too use your patience, to reeth notes of certain bliss.
As the soul of each half-concerned lover, may use your eyes as stars.
And perhaps, I too am used, beyond us both and ballad amorous,
Just to give, completely, to all that’s blessed, In our single shared and secret glance.

I believe in you, though I wish you dear,
Not to tear too deeply between
Quiet little eidolons that bare,
Or the things we’d both aught fear
Less I grieve to wake from that,
Losing you, and that dream.