<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div dir="auto" style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div class="">For Love</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span style="font-size: 14px;" class=""><i class="">for Bobbie</i></span></div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">Yesterday I wanted to</div><div class="">speak of it, that sense above </div><div class="">the others to me</div><div class="">important because all</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">that I know derives</div><div class="">from what it teaches me. </div><div class="">Today, what is it that </div><div class="">is finally so helpless,</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">different, despairs of its own </div><div class="">statement, wants to</div><div class="">turn away, endlessly</div><div class="">to turn away.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">If the moon did not ...</div><div class="">no, if you did not</div><div class="">I wouldn’t either, but </div><div class="">what would I not</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">do, what prevention, what </div><div class="">thing so quickly stopped. </div><div class="">That is love yesterday </div><div class="">or tomorrow, not</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">now. Can I eat</div><div class="">what you give me. I</div><div class="">have not earned it. Must </div><div class="">I think of everything</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">as earned. Now love also </div><div class="">becomes a reward so</div><div class="">remote from me I have</div><div class="">only made it with my mind.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">Here is tedium,</div><div class="">despair, a painful</div><div class="">sense of isolation and </div><div class="">whimsical if pompous</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">self-regard. But that image </div><div class="">is only of the mind’s</div><div class="">vague structure, vague to me </div><div class="">because it is my own.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">Love, what do I think</div><div class="">to say. I cannot say it.</div><div class="">What have you become to ask, </div><div class="">what have I made you into,</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">companion, good company, </div><div class="">crossed legs with skirt, or </div><div class="">soft body under</div><div class="">the bones of the bed.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">Nothing says anything </div><div class="">but that which it wishes </div><div class="">would come true, fears </div><div class="">what else might happen in</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">some other place, some </div><div class="">other time not this one. </div><div class="">A voice in my place, an </div><div class="">echo of that only in yours.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">Let me stumble into</div><div class="">not the confession but </div><div class="">the obsession I begin with </div><div class="">now. For you</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">also (also)</div><div class="">some time beyond place, or </div><div class="">place beyond time, no </div><div class="">mind left to</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class="">say anything at all,</div><div class="">that face gone, now.</div><div class="">Into the company of love </div><div class="">it all returns.</div><div class=""><br class=""></div><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Robert Creely</div></div></body></html>