I know Arthur’s drunken boat
and William’s tyger burning bright.
I’ve wept with Byron for love long gone,
and smiled at Shelley’s visions of fire.
Quantum queries occupy my time,
Replaced by orbits of you looping my mind;
the gravity between us
harder to resolve than any star’s collapse.
I’ve wrestled Nietzsche’s will to power,
chased Caesar through Gaul,
memorized Bukowski’s dirtiest lines
about hangovers and bluebirds.
The academics pontificate,
measuring distances to distant stars
while missing the heat
rising from nearby skin…
the physics of want.
When eyes meet and talk goes quiet,
we stop quoting and start quaking…
syntax slips into breath,
theory gives way to touch.
All these words, these careful thoughts…
what use are they now? Books close, lectures end,
but this hunger remains unread. I want to fuck.
- UpsilonA
And yes...
that line was written before the rest.