"From nowhere with love, on the -eenth of Marchember"

From nowhere with love, on the -eenth of Marchember,

dear respectful my darling, doesn't matter

even who, for the face, speaking frankly,

is impossible to remember, not yours, and

no-one's best friend, sends his regards being on one

of the five continents, related to cow-boys;

I loved you more than angels and even Himself

and am further from you now than from them both;

late at night, in the sleeping valley, in its very pit,

twisting at night on the blank bed-sheet --

as not mentioned below at least, -- with a throb

I whip up the pillow by moaning "you"

from beyond the seas, its shores connecting

in the dark, with my body your body through

all it's features, as a crazy mirror, reflecting.