I'm in my little inferno and
Mt Vesuvius groans from
the deep, rich earth.

Bow down to me,
kiss my leather soles
heel and all,
beanstalk man.

Lilac perfume
powder and aroma
laden and heavy in
the air, -- languid.

Writhe and
seethe, and
smash! Rebuild and
kick and
crash.

O, my blue
eyes and sun spot
hair. I am the harp,
you pull the
strings so
well.