sitting at night in the wicker chair
with your illuminated vision staying
up late and falling in love with many
more worlds and women than there is time
for yet finding newness in each one
handling and turning and making them
your own never compromising but bridging
the past and opposites of the forms
and worlds and beauty the total
lost at your death but those laughing
eyes and the fierce mouth
the world revolved around you
losing its color at your death
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