of what new some there is grass there is flesh

                   )that


swimming through muscles of divine Spring
feel good to be young again
their lurching and unlurching smoothness of
blade

is a grass between the the thighs
where giggles little the all of the world
in two new newness of old always being.

)it's boys and girls and gardens
and the cheapest hot glass of
dark dark dark wine
through your lips
on a cherry
afternoon
there
is
the
fresh slung
amber of a girl hand
in her girl hands' slowly slinging
of trite *** waisted in some hips gravure

             tussel

                tusseling

with the irreverent marvel of life
lived insmiply insipidly sipid .      A Dream Like Paris