51. GOODBYE

when I said good—bye to this girl, now,
somewhere, deep inside me, was a rumbling I know tomorrow or
sometime soon will erupt in me—no Krakatoa, but reiteration…

for dreams, the Indian Summer wind pushes around the corners
under the dark moonlit gables where leaves drive shadows once only, each,
over concrete pores.

the up, the down of the dry branches,
is the echo of my welled tears.
oh, another, mother, again,
and I am mute to bring back with spells
the yesterdays enchantment shrove.

my poor mind, little ship, against all nothingness,
when I am alone, the spectres gain flesh and well up in words,
like images from a tarny well.mother, father, best friend, love less however,
for there and there only can we say good—bye, hello, good—bye, only in
love, most talked—about and supernal of all the emotions…

the past, farther than distance, gone, never was,
I too, and cry for all the was and all the won’t be.