be our honeymoon. We joined the suicide squadready for self-sacrificeAnd if love is nota sacrifice what thenis its meaning?
How can I love him without causinghis mask to crack, a mask more cherishedthan his naked face, one of intensepiety that glows like an auburn sunagainst the horizon while the wineof his tremulous voice is poured again andagain into goblets of adorers’ ears?Transient as the splintering sunin the moving river beside his homewas his love and transient the leapof desire in his burnt sienna eyesBut how shall I survive the aftermathof love and the sudden awakeningin him of reasons, the
returning from a Gulf-land to my impatient arms?
LAURENTIAN POEMS: QUEBEC, CANADA
THE MAPLES ARE GREEN STILL
Perhaps in slumber liesas yet unemergedthe tarnished copper of their leavesand my beloved's tooI remember the red hot ragesthat awakenedunder my gypsy lips.Was there ever a womanable with words to describe the splendors of herlover's body?Ya Allahimport for usfor my silent one and mefrom the heavens abovea language that is versatileand conveys love's anguishand the concomitant blisswith words that resemble the sighs