I Will Not Sleep Here

Two pieces cut from the same cloth Two pages ripped out from the same book We burn in distant fires A frail corsage and a stone in a wayward flame All for that unbreakable lady Whom I approach with painted caution Red pride, black guilt And blue love on white sand Blood is thicker than water But both can go down the same drain I'm sick of thinking about nightmares And all the mysteries of sleep Sapless visions of an old bearded man With a bleeding eye, a sun-scorched brow On a platter framed by both of his arms He's kept awake by his knowledge Is he a poet, a lover, or a priest? Iokanaan, Antonius, and the bearded man sit on their hands While I lay numb on a big bed Blood is thicker than water But we go down the same drain