Behold –
this lingering breath of mine
it haunts and teases you from the tip of the tide
the midnight water blue diluted from my rustic pen overflowing
very droplets from my veins right by the heartstrings and they tender to you –
I call from the raging stillness of the wild
the rustling of leaves of a forest immense
an army of friction spreading and I with this prolonging song
hold to the sight of my lips and listen on –
to forget life is ever lived and day has ever ended
but remember
as solid as the hidden ground buried by the waves that fill my very lungs
as divine as the breath you give me
I gasp for more – and more –
and the tide is rushing backwards
until your lips mark the labour of our love
the drought outlives all eyes have ever beheld
the sky the air the woods the dirt the sand the water
but this breath of eternal sweet I shall keep and declare
from the first tinge of feeble spark to the withering of the solar field
I will call unto your name
again – again – again –

conjured by O’Keeffe, Stieglitz, and a dear friend


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