Evening, as slow as thy flaccid gases descend,
Covered with gentlest push on the stool so still,
The straining battlement, and coldest chill
Now explosive; I think of bowels that have to bend.
...
To spin a tale of fancy, to
wash emptiness so clean,
The mind sharp, but caught
...
The spoils of the air, irriguous water,
cleansing the Universal Soul of evil
breath, mercilessly settling on all
plants.
...
Lest thee not give grace
before each and every
partaking,
...
The glamorous road, so winding
and long, sculpted from the
earth by hands of spiritual
wealth,
...
(Symbolic eye - exaggerated painted
eye within a emblem resembling the
figure of a man's bearded face with a
woman's naked body.)
...
Beauty, behold your lips so gracefully flush with expectation,
Smile, so satisfying, mildly resting on insipid words I can't spell,
Yet, when you put my mind at ease, I fail to yield to your smell,
One thrills, I spend my days searching in sumptuous exasperation.
...
O, Poet, strangely perfect, thy thoughts so keenly splayed,
You speak as though the earth was formed by your tailor,
Stitched with hand tools, a compass borrowed from a sailor,
Skillfully rolled, divinely filled with holy water after you prayed.
...