This living hand would type
To work out one more love,
In  sonnet’s rhyme scheme.

Suspend a living for a while
To let  hand lie cold in tomb
In  living mind’s daydream.

Then let red blood flow in it
Drained from dream’s heart.
We are living body’s dream.

Now take a living hand here.
Suspend the fucking dream.
Let us live out of the dream.

(reading John Keats’ poem “The living hand…”)