To Peter Orlovsky
When we parted in Tangier
We said ten years or perhaps a few months.
Whatever fate and railroads bring, whatever cities or deserts –
Now I’m in the holy land, alone
reading Cavafy – it’s half past twelve
My letters haven’t reached you, yet you’re somewhere here, Petra or Syria
Perhaps have entered the Gate to this land and are looking for me in Jerusalem –
I wrote to all your addresses and to your mother –
Tonight I am reading books and remembering our old nights together naked –
I hope fate brings us together, a letter answered, held in the red hand –
or crossing some modern streetcorner, look joyfully in each others’ eyes.
From The Journals, Early Fifties, Early Sixties (November 1961)