Reality is the Irregularity of the Past.

Friday, November 19, 2010


There is a stretching from lip to a lip

Like a rope-bridge from the hearts to the hip,

And swings of the weight from spirit to limb;

That betroths the love-drip, a lip to a lip.

To hold such a Peach to the teeth and rim,

For the gushing o’ flavors abreast to stem—

The golden ravishing of the limbs to feet;

For the long-hour comes a moment too grim.

The tight-ropes to those bridges compete,

As the blood in flourishing stands complete.

That Love ne’er tends to know of the living,

For one must in his heart of lusting deplete.

Oh! Gentle caress o’ her silver lip-string,

And mine eye so closed, now of all seeing,

The sal’vation on Her softened lips state

Doth twine with mine own spi't and wellbeing:

"Love-knot of Our lip-string like threads of the Fates

Through fickle, shall tie Us together through Hate."

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