Drowsily I have been speaking
in theatres and conference halls
on street corners I have been smoking
sending signals to the gods
and though my words are poured over
by a thousand eager minds
nothing is communicated
nothing understood

coughing,
tired,
I have never worked so hard
and yet today I found my strength returning
I found my pace
I felt an energy of old

Sorensen called this evening
I did not hear his call.
I fear what waits me in the morning;
he only calls when there is heat.

Marianne wrote a letter.
Painted a picture of her house down by the bay.
I do not resent her movement,
or the Dane she moves in with,
but I resent her painting pictures
in the style she painted me.

Drowsily I have been thinking
in my bed and on the plane
on the streets of distant cities
I have been thinking about love.
But though my thoughts are mulled over
by a thousand warring minds
nothing is revealed
nothing understood

coughing,
tired,
I feel as though I'm living in my own post-history
and yet, today, I found my strength returning
I found my charm
I felt an energy of old
I am excited