how of,
U wen
've been
wine amongst such dower trees as Spring:
a perched upon
a string of suddenly
cool night has
alighted
with weft of surging flower
a stumbling drunkness of **** infinite self
(a parting of easy fragrance ) soft
at the hinges
and wet between
the peels of rough human knees:
(some hand; some soft
At play
at hurtfully
entering eager pain .)
t
h
e
sound
o
f
fingers;
the sound of love.