T.S. Eliot Homage  (a love poem)    Looking, now, at myself,  do you think of me, later?    When the tropical sun and high waves  wash across my thin ankles?    White-haired and crazy with spider-like legs,  stumbling over small sand dunes—  dunes I shall call memories.    Should I be calling:  — More champagne? Hashish? Incense?         Should I be laughing:  — Why have you forsaken me O Lord?    Looking, then, at myself, and you,  seeing you over my Paper-Mache shoulders—  brittle, like old bird bones,  these once worldly shoulders.    Do you think of me?  — And the angel of the Lord declared unto Mary  that she was to be the Mother of God . . .   White-haired and crazed, red bandana and erotic music.  Original, native paintings upon my clay walls, so modest—     The Mother of … Continue reading “T.S. Eliot Homage,” Poetry by Timothy Resau