The Columbine Bloodletting

i can never seem to find you when i need you,
you grow, in part, inside of me and
i let your blood constantly.
i let your blood constantly
by taking other lovers
for they masquerade as you,
i can never tell the difference until
....

You still wear your masque
it is still you, Harlequin,
who can see me only
and i spin around
and around and
my long golden hair
becomes loosed and flies -
what matter?
no-one else can see me.
no-one else
can ever see me but you.

i let your blood constantly
as you grow inside of me,
in a way, like a poem
so that i don't get you wrong.

oh how i like dancing with you for
you are quite invisible, yet
every nerve
feels every sinew
as we prance through
this harrowing tango.

i am a cobra spitting
when those masques
are unmasked,
unmanned,
unwomanned.
Those kisses fade
and dryly smack
upon arbitrary contours, and
all that is left
is that feeling of need
for something else.

Harlequin, can you see me?
Columbine, where are you?
Harlequin!!
Columbine!!

These veils only part
at the behest
of some fateful breeze,
passionate wind,
or tempestuous storm.

i spin like whirlwind
i gather the dusts up
of anthill,
of civilization, and
my soul
will leave no rock unturned,
no tree unclimbed.

i am pursued
i pursue,
is it always to be so,
is it always invisible you?