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Pillowed on your arm
only for the dream of a spring night,
I have become the subject of gossip,
although nothing happened.
Pillowed on your dream,
I come and go all spring,
taking pleasure in gossip
as though nothing happened.
Pillowed on my arm,
I confide only in myself
the dream of your arm,
my endless dream of your arm.
Pillowed on my dream,
I no longer drift out into a spring night
but make plans before sunset,
as if something happened.
Pilloried by love
I sip the dram of gods
from the spring of night –
Where’s the harm in that?
Pillowed on the dream of your arm,
a mute owl on a bare bough
in a starless barn
shrouded in snow.
Disarmed by a spring night,
powerless against dreams,
assailed by gossip,
I throw the windows open.
Pillowed on the spring night
of your arm –
I can’t sleep.
Pillowed on the gossip of your arm
I have become an object of ridicule
in my own eyes.
Pillowed on your nothing,
only for the dream of a spring nothing,
I have become the subject of nothing,
although nothing.
Pillowed on his arm
all night, all spring,
that the gossip may reach even to your dreams.
In my dream I am pillowed on your arm
and the clouds of a spring day
keep changing faster than gossip
or an emu running backwards.
Although nothing happened,
nothing happened
that hasn’t already happened again.
Also noting happenstance.
Alto notes sing half steps.
Altered knots have ends.
All through knowing happiness.
Like the subject of gossip
as it begins to spread,
I keep your pillow
between my legs.
If nothing happened,
why has my pillow become
harder than your arm?
You
and your pillow
and your arm
and your dream
and your spring night
and your gossip.
As if.
L’oreiller de ton nez
que pour une belle nuit d’été
je suis devenue sujet
de ce rien qui n’est passé.
A Pillow, a Dream and an Arm
walk into a bar…
It wasn’t your arm.
It wasn’t spring.
It wasn’t night.
It wasn’t a dream.
It isn’t gossip.
Nothing never happens.
night, spring, dream
of gossip
for on
the arm
a Pillowed
happened
your only I
become
the have nothing subject of
although…
Although nothing happened,
I have become the subject of gossip,
only for the dream of a spring night
pillowed on your arm.