January 17 2001

> > midnight past, love songs fallen flat > & feelings my voice breaks to own > find no lift across th stagnant moat > seeping into their four-stroke pumphouse > > > every woman picks mother's curse ripe > to fling a smile on turning back, loading > benevolent condescension fulfilled > in th ultimate abandonment of years: > > >'someone else will read yr full tact. > another touch will soothe yr burn, hold yr prime ' > -but no skin, no body mirrors mine > > > (desire in my head, flooding my heart alone) > to reflect bright fortunes in th sweaty glint > & fill & soften one another's shadows into home > > > > viele gruesse, harry haller.d=(8{>