Longing

Oh woman how I long for your kindness
and it's not only love that makes you cry
how I long for your teasing truth
and your body taut like a bow
strings like an orchestra, all tuned up
while the audience throw their roses
and tulips and electric orchids
before your feet of silverfoil
and if you never come today
tomorrow or a long time after
well, stillness is part of movement anyway
but how I long for your milestone sweetness
- flashlights and flowers in the sea -
yes, the milkman cries "morning !" everyday
and Casanova hides his head
and sheds a single tear in his pillow
but in this place of music and high notes
of stern faces and drunk laughter
I'm longing for your leopard claws
your song of mountain madness
and the audience throw gold beercans
and tape-recorded conversations at your feet
they found these in the alley
just before they shuffled in
with their tickets in their mouths
they all look like they've just
come back from their sadistic dentists
who gave'em fish-eye fillings
and cemented their noses as well
and now they've come to throw their puny
credit-cards and unsigned checks at you
while I long for your unnerving statements
- and it's 1966 again -
your whispered words of smoke and precious metal
all void they are, all void
like a hidden temple and I think
you're really welcome here
where I'm alone, sequestered on octopus-island
stillness is part of movement anyway.
I guess you've found your tools
know how to work them
or I just wouldn't be here
wouldn't sleep so soundly
wouldn't long for you this way
and never have a care.


18/3/1975. Kyoto