The morning predicts everything about the songs of day.
Lust is what lust is as love is what it is,
And in receiving that I at least receive you
And me. Anyone we two may exchange
One for another; everything has to give.
Never are we two one, not me nor day
Nor you and day, but you and I separate,
So much together, so simple in aloneness,
So close near the causal dependency
That day is just, the beginning of us
Responsively false in our own desires
In the pulsing heat that increases evening fires.
