Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...
Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...
Raymond Soulard, Jr. New Songs (for Kassandra) - The ...
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75<br />
I know. Next year I’ll be with you. I promise. I’m going slow. I’m going to get you. I<br />
promise with all I have.<br />
I see eyes within eyes within eyes, those of so many beloved people & they begin &<br />
end with yours<br />
soul like smoke within me—like aura around me—thus I carry you & emit our love<br />
by dance & pen—by the love I give to others what I offer you is greater—<br />
I want to love you without pain, <strong>Raymond</strong>, please let me learn how, help me, let me go, keep<br />
me—<br />
Dr Knickerbocker shouts By love’s flaming thrust are we<br />
shaped, do we rise, do we crumble! By love’s<br />
corrosive stroke do we stumble & crescendo!<br />
Someone rests her head against my shoulder & watches this page as I fill it with<br />
words that begin there can be no lasting bliss in this mortal life til nearly everything ever<br />
known is gone, til one’s cells is the air, one’s scripture the bees<br />
bark <strong>for</strong> absent master, cry <strong>for</strong> faraway muse, dream <strong>for</strong> home’s nearing<br />
til one’s body reserves just a little golden moisture, til memory is nonsense, dreams bunk, all<br />
truth & future apparent in a candle’s winking eye<br />
hold sunlight in hand, bounce her like a ball, flick & wiggle til a cloud joking passes<br />
waiting <strong>for</strong> me to defend this precious yet indefensible existence one says I love you & I will<br />
carry you & I will not give up on you & there’s more! wait don’t go yet!<br />
<strong>The</strong> desert waits I carry to there my cluster of muse, an unbroken pocket stitched from pain<br />
& empty beds<br />
she tickles me briefly & giggles—<br />
& I turn to my shamans the trees & they nod by leaf to my entreaties & prayers. Love: Only<br />
love. <strong>The</strong>re is only love. <strong>The</strong> rest falls away.<br />
You keep sending me butterflies by wind & wheel, each one I love you & I cannot<br />
count how many & you know & you smirk & I rarely do & you giggle & you approach music<br />
I once thought but now music approaches you—music approaches you—music approaches<br />
you—music approaches you—<br />
music approaches you—<br />
approaches you—<br />
music approaches you—<br />
approaches you—<br />
you – you – you – you – you –<br />
Gretta looks at Rebecca—they nod—closer, I guess—<br />
<strong>The</strong> Cenacle | 59 | October 2006