Flood of yellow lights Rising from your navel, I can sense euphoria, as Darkness dies on my lap. The universe is too small Or our souls – enormous. Let us both become sun, Constant nuclear fusion Will keep our love warm.
Art thou the thing I wanted? Begone—my Tooth has grown— Supply the minor Palate That has not starved so long— I tell thee while I waited The mystery of Food Increased till I abjured it And dine without Like God— — Art thou the thing I wanted? Begone—my Tooth has grown— Affront a minor palate Thou could’st not goad so long—
I tell thee while I waited— The mystery of Food Increased till I abjured it Subsisting now like God—