So, so long ago,

and so far away,

when Time was just a line

that you fed me,

when you wanted to stay,

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we'd talk

as soft as chalk,

till morning came, as pale as a pearl:

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No time!

No, no time!

Now, I have got all the time

in the world.

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Say, honey, did you belong to me?

Tell me, honey,

was your heart at rest when, darlin,

all the mourning doves were howling us

a song of love's

godawful lawlessness?

Say, honey, did you belong to me?

Tell me, darlin, did I pass your test?

I lay, as still as death, until the dawn,

whereupon I wrested from

that godawful lawlessness.

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I roam around the tidy grounds

of my dappled sanatorium.

Coatless, I sit

amongst the moles, adrift,

and I dote upon my pinesap gum.

And the light, through the pines,

in brassy tines,

lays over me, dim as rum

and thick as molasses.

And so time passes.

And so, my heart, tomorrow comes.

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I feel you, leaning,

out back with the crickets,

loyal heart marking the soon-ness,

darkness:

tonight, still,

the mourning doves

will summon us their song

of love's neverdoneing lawlessness

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while, over and over--

rear up! stand down! lay round!--

trying to sound-out,

or guess the reasons,

I sleep like a soldier, without rest.

But there is no treason,

where there is only lawlessness.

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In the last week

of the last year I was aware,

I took a blind shot, across the creek,

at the black bear,

when he roused me in the night,

and left me cowering with my light,

calling out

Who is there?

Who's there?

Who is there?

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I watched you sleep,

repeating my prayer.

(Give love a little shove

and it becomes terror.)

Now I am calling,

in a sadness beyond anger

and beyond fear,

Who is there? Who's there?

Who is there?

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