A Poem of Love in Eleven Lines

Dreamer of purified fury and fabulous habit,

your eyes of deserted white afternoons

target, stiffen, riot with unicorn candor

so I swallow your body like meanings or whisky or as you swallow me.

Break rhythm here: your kiss is my justice:

look then now how orange blooms of jubilation unfold in satisfied air!

This sex is more than sex, under the will of the God of sex,

so I softly invoke transformation of your rueful image of haven

–those frozen rocks, that guilty lighthouse isolate from temptation–

to warm Flemish landscape green and brighteyed with daisies of

dizzying color

where pilgrims are dancing after gospelling bird who sing of

new springs, good water.