beloved    I     dreamt   of you
      dreaming   atilt against   the lilies –
the   dawn   with   its mouth
        tottering before   like   an animal
   shying away from the   automaton sky.
     it     is    in your hair full   of evenings
      I saw the   moon not   with its  tail
  but with the   hooves   of the deathless    sea
      of this droning   silence,
           not with    its stride     of    sidereal measure
but    the    mount of    it past    a thousand  days
       tainted   with    crimson,  it   is not  with lithe  hands
of  churlish   girls   that I have    plucked you   out   of that
         garden but   with   the immense   hand
   of   such obscure   understanding  from sleep’s peculiar
  mouth   made divine    in me, the   word that   christens   what
  felled    star rises     from    the   palm  of such   darkness,
    
     that    in   the immensity   of your   sleep,  I am but   a bird
passing     athwart the    windows and   yearn so   much   the breeze
   that  touches   you    in your timid    sleep
           like     dreams     like     *****       like    sirens  
                  like    love    cunning   with   its     fluent   spires
          of   perfumes.