underneath your vase

Morning
below night's coat you choke air and the medley of birds,
beside desire the warm day' s rock
coarse hands of light
are up and willing




what night is it?
is it night? this quivering reed
stretches nerves
yellow corn fields





Hold this piece of silver traitor
Climb the ladder to the bed you never entered
is that crystal on your thigh
tear the lace off my teeth'd gnaw
everyone knows winter's dead
in your blessed feet
your belles-lettres hips




below night's coal
Hills thaw you're holding my sex
promised flower of its erect hour
fired column sprawl vines around your back
your back's naked and coming




On abyss the cliff
you hang a mouth abutting
jutting open spring board to the finish....





rain comes like thawed wheats
sweaters waisting your arms
take off your underthings
your mouth is coming




underneath your vase
your breasts
your tits holding out for my suck






this is saturday night in the western metropolis and
you're imagining rain day night canoes passable gulches
and asses you've worn




here the exclamation hardly matters as you're breathless on the other shore
panting
panting