|
All this heat,
All this beauty,
In betwixt the
battered flesh and bone,
Lies the desire of the
soul
To abide sea shells.
That’s the soul of
mine,
Molding the acrobatic
hoops of hers
Before the bed of mine
She dances with the
boisterous laughers of hers,
With no searching
queries,
Flashing across his
mind
Pecking the very
absented queries of his,
And crumbling the very
dim-distant past of his,
That’s the body of
mine,
They are tracking down
the soul
Within the patching of
the body,
They make him uglier
and uglier,
They stuff him with
hoariness,
A body’s still hounded
by the earth
That’s the body of
mine.
|
Yesterday,
I did split up the
dream of mine.
While on the track of
his, I was paring off what thereof should not be
left.
While I was walking
on,
I left behind the
boisterous laughers of mine
And crossed the other
quarter,
After I had stripped
off the smile
And gone away with no
poem,
With no love.
I then saw the body of
mine,
Still suffused with
lust,
I hence flang her
about the threshold
And in I went
With no body
And I dreamt:
That the victims shall
flock in on the eve
And count my sins
against me.
|
