Does the imagination have a mouth?
Being from the north, I travel south
To cathedrals’ apses, towers, vast spaces,
With nooks hiding girls
With raven curls
Or blonder ones with Botticelli faces.

I go south because I can.
Why shouldn’t a  proportionate man
Seek beauty in physique and wit?
The imagination feeds
On what it needs.
But alas, could it be I’ve come to the end of it?

The imagination has an ear.
I listened to a beauty this year
Tell me each day every thing she loved in the world.
But can’t I love one
Thing? like the sun?
Or one bud not yet bloomed, its small leaves still curled?

The imagination will have many
Beginnings before it has any.
We look with our eyes at illusion happily.
But her eyes
And her sighs
Are exactly where I want to be.

The imagination has a mouth.
Imagination will out.
I will go finally to where a kiss
Takes a week.
Love is to seek
And never have, and it hits if it miss.


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