Three Poems

                                      From Sonnets to E——

All I give back to you is the gold and purple of my heart, unstained, untold, and placed in the external part of a wall. It will be unexpectedly large. Am I cold? Ungrateful? For the most part. This is a great gift. I do not believe that nothing stops backwards. It continues over everything. I’m not cold, but poor and hyperventilating. The color of my life is a dead, pale material. Had it not been for the facts, I could rest my distant head. E—— asks God, whom she knows, for frequent tips.                                       From Sonnets to E—— In another time, and time after time, a thousand will love me. My repeated words a cuckoo-song without the cuckoo-tension. They come like a cool spring and finish green. I enter a blackout of compliments and doubtful spirit-voices. In the pain of doubt, I hear In another time, a thousand will love me. Who can fear to be a star? To roll through heaven, crowned in flowers year after year? A thousand will love me. A thousand will love me. Like the toll of a silver bell, expensive, silent, soulful.                                       From Sonnets to E—— It is certainly true, if I begin a thousand may give their lives for me. E——, I can be brighter than any sun and colder than any death. I marvel, when I read my own letters, they spill like wine from my fingers. In my dreams of death, only then do I assume a lower life. Even then, I’m loved. Breathe me in because there are others that don’t count me a stranger. My love is acres wide and hotter than any degree can measure. In my sight, Heaven is a demotion.