golden piles,heaving trunks,she's a little mystery
so grow slowly magnificent leaf
the hearth sprouts a cough of giddy spit
(when the sun dies the earth drunk of quiet; the trees clamour
       for some moon blood) and the hounds are mouths foaming
all over the ambrosia flecks of open windows greeting summers breath

      she,s some fruit. grown supple flesh singing stinging beads of salty
liqueur. taste. lips gripping stunning liquid. in all my cuts. she's the paste.

                what a bounty; these eyes. seems where the stars lay. glittering
specks. irresolute laughter. the timid sister of a day gone by


                                       how make i for you
                                       an earth more perfect
                                       than this? i give my blood