mmdcclxiii

What’s true of labyrinths is true of course

Of love and memory.  When you start remembering.

                                                                –Jack Spicer

You have created with-

in me a hole.  Well, an

open eye (with no leaks),

and it is a very cold hole.

I did not know what to 
say to you who had such 
a bountiful half-barrel 
of the sweetest apples

as you placed them on

the dock of your choice

for the world’s apple

junkies to gather

around and to adore.
Not until it was almost

a minute too late did

you take the most

beautiful one in your

precious hand with

its elegant spindly

fingers and offer

one boldly to the

threshold of my

younger lips.

“Here,” you said,

as I took a bite.

“There,” you said

as I swallowed it.

Where I am now

is anyone’s guess.

Even my open eye,

which is con-
stantly leaking 

(liquid which

is obviously

from some-

where in my

head), hasn’t

the where-

withal to en-

vision a map

to provide
me with gui-

dance, nor
offer a single

token of advice 
regarding which

direction my next
step should go.