([finding my] {a[muse]meant) / and then saying ‘bye, claire b

so i have finally dis-

pens-

ed. with my third 

muse 

in some few months 

over a year’s river 

of islands and 

dreams.

and saying goodbye 

to the third which is you

is about 

as tough as it gets; no letting 

off or

on i fear, 

and weary some more.

and love when unrequited is more

the painful for

never being 

said goodbye to 

in any way 

which drives a real humanity 

of the senses: 

no recompense there, at all.

so ‘bye, dear claire b:

i am a poet of

love who no longer can see 

his be-

lived.

what a

sorry

affair of

[nation-]state.

and yet however badly, 

you last year 

and you mother 

twelve years before,

did treat me,

i emerge with no desire further 

to beg of yous

other communication strange 

and kindly.

in this equation

i now do realise 

i have been the party 

of good,

and yous the parties of huge sad.

i have done more than beyond 

to bond in some truly

loving way 

the beauty of thought and taught 

which all three might have shared:

and yet in the 

gaudy 

presents of

no more caring to, 

i give up

my pursuit – 

and i guess your gratitude 

now is so grand

i must accept your legalistic judgment.

forget me forever, as I will do you: 

and remember – as you

will surely deny – 

that my eye was unerring,

my soul quite goddamn true,

and my [he]art 

in eternal 

good 

faith:

something i think no one 

who witnesses these 

pages will 

ever now conclude 

of yous two beautiful but

br[e]aking

women.

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