the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls
are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds
(also,with the church’s protestant blessings
daughters,unscented shapeless spirited)
they believe in Christ and Longfellow,both dead,
are invariably interested in so many things—
at the present writing one still finds
delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles?
perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy
scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D
….the Cambridge ladies do not care, above
Cambridge if sometimes in its box of
sky lavender and cornerless,the
moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

Doll’s boy ’s asleep
under a stile
he sees eight and twenty
ladies in a line

the first lady
says to nine ladies
his lips drink water
but his heart drinks wine

the tenth lady
says to nine ladies
they must chain his foot
for his wrist ’s too fine

the nineteenth
says to nine ladies
you take his mouth
for his eyes are mine.

Doll’s boy ’s asleep
under the stile
for every mile the feet go
the heart goes nine

as is the sea marvelous
from god’s
hands which sent her forth
to sleep upon the world

and the earth withers
the moon crumbles
one by one
stars flutter into dust

but the sea
does not change
and she goes forth out of hands and
she returns into hands

and is with sleep….

love,
    the breaking

of your
        soul
        upon
my lips

i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

being chased through the land
of yellow skies and orange sand
a giant bearded dragon fish/licks
a butterfly that ***** a wish
the triangle, he smokes a pipe
with shapes and forms of every type
and then I notice when I blink
i might have had too much to drink

then tree spider approaches eye
a burried bear lets out a cry
the chicken, rabbits, and the snail
face off 'gainst something with a tail/breast
feeding horse, a slith'ring tree
a human dog, staring at me
an orange sky and yellow sand
it's getting hard for me to stand

the red face plays three string guitar
to wondrous creatures, all bizarre
a footprint stains the tan brown floor
out green walled windows, so much more
the light bulb hangs from tail of bird
and all this starts to feel absurd
the windows that I once hung up
look different through an empty cup