"From nowhere with love, on the -eenth of Marchember"

From nowhere with love, on the -eenth of Marchember,
dear respectful my darling, doesn't matter
even who, for the face, speaking frankly,
is impossible to remember, not yours, and
no-one's best friend, sends his regards being on one
of the five continents, related to cow-boys;
I loved you more than angels and even Himself
and am further from you now than from them both;
late at night, in the sleeping valley, in its very pit,
twisting at night on the blank bed-sheet --
as not mentioned below at least, -- with a throb
I whip up the pillow by moaning "you"
from beyond the seas, its shores connecting
in the dark, with my body your body through
all it's features, as a crazy mirror, reflecting.