The New World
Lonely days
with
purple skies..
pouring on
my face
the mist
of yesterday.
Where is
the black bird...
the girl
in her
poppish skirt..
the rope
that unties
my smile...
Give me
your cadence,
your rhythm,
your resonance
that disturbs
my nerves
when I am
with you.
I am
in the
container
of my gossips,
in the
rainy glow
of your lips...
in your
meaningless approach
to a new world.