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• Artiste: Patrick James
• Titre: May
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the space and time scarce that to you I sighted a passing speckle, I ask to a flourishing glare hallow some setting that has been in mind seeming in conciliation and tentative pieces but then implicit care, I have for in a pair a lament of one’s touch and near sensuality fervently imbued, imperatively of my soul to carry by my tongue of a chance waves of ambience, by your mouth to hear a sense of closeness in your breathe by your grace and if you... may and the name on that calendar that night outside the window, looking upon the highway New Years coming up I think is a good sigh, to find something to show, to send, should I ask and let anticipation be dead bright dream around the post office face close-up had a dream about the rain found the fence on top missing parts nails outside scattered under on the floor by your shattered window newt week mild winds a train into Springwood I want to be there by Ten wooden floors gypsy carpet stairs old rail painted white in the room you play a band you said you like and gluey paintings and others and magazines cut between two beds no one sleeps and I fins pencils and papers of, your drawings away I day green five may we May if you away leaf eucalyptus ground may if... if myself given throughout, culled from the parts solely of my whole being in my own thoughts in that, you’d reciprocate something in that degree of yourself to be known to me, as I had for all I sought to see of you my acumen false, for it be only hindsight to clarify, one of the two fish, the aculeus scorpion, and as it is so, but not any more assertive but in one of a twin, by chance close to I, that I know is certainly suited to second guess – all too well and that happened and I plaintively feel of it in thought of printing a regard seething the lines written, a loss culminating to one spoken to I of an aurae wade through transcending to a guided spirit with me it’s adagio violins, or in a dream the flutes and bassoons that soar, for which I think of you as a poet embodied whom you are as I have not seen, but I write from stomach awaken by some spirit that must have crossed yours, whatever colour it may be moving in charcoal trees with drooping deep dark greens I see myself, and vaguely the vestige, that from yourself in a hollow dwindling longing I retrieve may if may if written I met her in May as I thought of my life may, abound the city to waiting may, to of her way and my whatever if I break her, I may a letter to court behind my pain as may have came diminishing I met her in May as I thought of my life may, collapse, I faded to her, she passed