The lovemaking grows more intense, not less.
Ten million men and women out of work
The price of a sound currency. Tim Page
Brings us "The New, The Old, The Unexpected,"
Two hours of new music every day,
Six hours of sleep, eight of work, and art
Simmers on the back burner with desire
For Fame, for Fortune, Rules: choose one, not both.
The reasons for not moving grow more lame.
Ten million stories in this naked city
And one of them is ours. I'm like Tim Miller
Spraying my name in paint upon my chest,
Reminding me of who I am. A man
By any other name's a refugee.
I shall not back away, but take my stand
Where love and honesty are one, not both.
It gets more complicated with the years
And less so. There must be ten million ways
Of making love, but all I need are three:
The new, the old, the unexpected. Grace
Is like New Music hitting with the foce
Of tidal waves, or like the atmosphere
So clear these mornings we forget it's how
We've always lived and breathed as one, no both.
I touch you on the eyes, and chest, and wrist.
Ten million dollars wouldn't change a thing,
The price of a sound mind. "Tim Dlugos knows,"
Voice-over from an old-time radio
Reminding me of where I used to be.
I'm here, and so are you. To make it art
Is easy when you're musical as we.
Live it or live with it: choose one, not both.
Tim Dlugos (1950-1990)
A Fast Life
Nightboat Books, 2011