Les Rêves de Mon Coeur
Oh, you're in my blood
you're like holy wine
you taste so bitter and so sweet
Les Rêves de Mon Coeur
+
+
+
+
"

Nothing more strong
than to be helpless before desire.
No reason,
the simplified heart whispers,
the argument over,
only This.

No longer choosing anything but assent.

Its bowl scraped clean to the bottom,
the skull-bone cup no longer horrifies,
but, rimmed-in-silver, shines.

A spotted dog follows a bitch in heat.
Grey geese fly past us, crying.
The living cannot help but love the world.

"
The Adamantine Perfection of Desire, Jane Hirshfield