the moon it comes
to save the dusk,
it fills our eyes
with grey moon dust,

the sun it drowns
in the blood it lays,
on azur ocean
with ruby rays.

in this space
between moon and sun,
where tided waters
are too still to run,

is signed his name
by each crest of wave,
this faceless boy
who now comes to bath.


          Sept 1983 Paris.                 next->