.






























                                                             stars are the body your face is
                                                             the wings that crowd,
                                                             by pinions brilliant,
                                                             heaven's perfectly eternal neatness





















































.

that kind of "*******

i ' m

goingtosmoke

a cigee                       "is



(to me)          so




so body
andso

it's

dying stupid wonderfully
to taste like

when lips are our(andtongueplease

of such it is to dream,
more dreamless nights to become

that fleeting which
like a breath escapes

into crystalline diminishing
and the loose tightness
of October.

**** what it's so you're

you're so


                        ****


and pretty
in shoulders

around a chest
where
(so nicely flutters)

youth

(and over it
are
your
****                     )

a branch sways it
bends
supplely it

folds

not an
inch

only

to
break

what stands the sea on completely edge?

the roots of mountains very deeply into keen waters steaming. (like boysmen


at the shriveled inch
of girl *******



                                          )like
      ­                                        ,
        
                                            like      .l

      ­                                                    i

          ­                                                k    e the way intensely quivers
                                                         ­           grass to grow
                                                            ­        in plumes o' green and waxy

                                                           ­          the way smells
                                                          ­           the teeming
                                                         ­            of a city
                                                            ­         harshly
                                                         ­            into
                                                            ­         1
                                                              t­hgit
                                                            ­laturb
                                                          ­fist              
                                              ­        swelling
                                                ­                  to strike

                                                         ­   . A meadow where sleeps girls in the colours of Spring,



                
                                     ­                                                                 ­     '



                                                            ­                                                ,








       ­                                                                 ­                                    .

this you who by shall does
(stars moon sting buzz)

each and each

the wind night spangles of

climb and climb

to softest velvet's supple cuff
(dreams of aching's arch'd slough)


'pon the plain of ardent fantasy
(drink swoon sun sea


                                                     )