No one knows where I am
And I am as melt and laugh and purr
And smoke and cherry in the old Port.
What use do I have for them now,
Those haphazard things.
I press my breast against the rail
And **** the white scented
Flesh, spit the seed into the sea
Here right where the boats
Come in. No one knows where I am
And can in my hand
And a freeze of freedom as
I scale the mast and plant
My flag, the crown of a fir
My bed. A shrine, graffito
From inside my mind
Penny-closed eyes and I am
The hymn, the itch and the soil.