O eve
             O 1st starting nubile sparks
                                                          ­      O thrush and warble

         you skip tremulous and encroaching
       puddle o' dankness rushing oe'r blade and mountain
      you race the wind and gather up all the finite bodies of earth
     in your illustrious cool mouth and blow each face and stem thy
    kiss o' your illluminant clutching docile lips, which fornicate with
   the merry spades o' silver stars a digging the freshest grave of day
                                       (i'll fit into you
                                        the stuff of me
                                        in creases o'
                                        your foldless
                                        heaps and
                                        coiffes
             ­                           your hair marvelous and faultless
                                        staggers brightly
                                        from the pale splinter o' the moon
                                        and it eats me into
                                        the playful gnash o' its reticent
                                        fists
          ­                       )
         O
         eve
                             O
                            valley  and stream
                      
             (meet with me tonight
              beneath the pallor lady
              and we'll make love)