Flirtatious succulence and the drizzle of a drunk stylus, grooved
to gullets of prudence: always to be the glance from her eye
that grazes the crotch of a boy’s heart.
In the undressing of its sentences in a torrent of small arms,
the gait of his mind reaches the depths of de Chirico shadows:
by the length of gratitude, frozen into a lithe Summer.
White lies peel layers of pink: metaphors lie sunburnt
in the wet sand. Buckets of childplay run amuck in the oilspill
of disingenuous erudition: whiskers sunk into Romance. Scars
eat the angelic in dreams, wishful of moons long lost to the howl
of the Mesmerized. Her catacombs of moist skulls gape to their dark
and soak in idioms of lewd water. Speechless words drown
in clear vowels: Perfume; loitering, taunts with a green heeled jab
of legs that make heaven of themselves and hell of ordinary men.