I had dreams of a life
not long ago,
angels meet beyond our horizon,
in this heavenly nothing where everything glows; we knew,
we know.
Lucid, morose, palm trees,
no way home. Don't go,
let go, get low, won't stand too close
Unclean, more fiend, I am
your dose,
your ghost,
that is,
when curtains close.

I can't let go, can't get low,
these ecstasies slip through my fingers but fall
too close
I know, to you, broken - my prose
a hoax
Don't let it show, resume our show, but if you want, you can know.
Until then,
we die living,
Amalfi Coast