Explore Poem by Robert Rorabeck

I’m trying to go to sleep; but I’m harrowed:
I think your p*ssy is ethereal-
It really is a candle flame, and you have red
Hair:
And if I cut my ear off, and painted you
Sunflowers; I could lay you across these
Springs and have it; I could make you sing out,
And smell your breath, and go about the
Oldest definitions in the book without really
Thinking about it, just like two old professors
Studying their old English:
And if this is really a song, it goes silently like
A poor child drowned in the ice-cold river;
And if this is a psalm, it starts by speaking of
Your two red legs opening, diving the river,
Giving conjunctions: and contours,
And I haven’t really gotten to it, what I really
Meant to say about your p$ssy; about that
Spot, Tom and Rebecca exploring:
There should really be a philosophy meant to
Expound it, and a profession just set up to enjoy it:
And maybe there is, a carnival and a circus;
While I’m standing on the cliff surrounded by
Caracoles and the strange young purposes of man:
And you are really the velvet bull’s eye I was meant to
Hew for, to perfect a cure for: And thus I go flying
With my eyes closed to dream about you, to strip
And peal for, and to slip behind the secretive curtains
Of those wet-walled cliffs who lay down crying for
Me to explore.