I see (you)
the same
fine-young ghost
every night
and between us
there is no love
or hate or even
order
no real voice
other than one
universal calling
for something,
like a shot in
the dark,
we never really
say anything
but rather fall
just to get up
like swollen-
bloated suns
spitting light
at each others
dancing shadows
breaking up
and down
reaching out
for as long as
life lets us
(dream.)
Eric Hamilton
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-ll-pour-this-face-on-you/
