Clear Valentine

The clear sky

shouts we haven’t

that much time to

move our minds

if we expect

the precipitous

to overcome the

inane in bed

or on the street

where we go to

dream or cuddle

following the honey

you call sweat

the sweet labor

of being licked

and held but

in one vision I

saw you destitute

living in crazy land

down the street

from our first place

I had already been

dead some years

wearing my blue

jacket but weeping

when I saw you.