Mag Poem.4 "Day Dance Beside Peach"
Be there. Drink when full rhythm brings
motor-play, that meager carnival of solitary
tingle. Love: this wet song murmuring yet
bound remembering the anatomy of your blossom
everything -- a brilliant stone tiny from speaking
about heart and skin, a summer staggering, a sound-
scent vein of rose and puddle, cool mud down under
matter. Through sizzle night -- paradise, an imagined
wait, a ricochet garden in orange cocktails
of moon: our immense slathering to life, to soil,
for the flop of thought, wicked drip, prison sun.
Not me, you, sea, ecstatic machine like a black
boot in livid storm. I come full as red, as never.
Want to hear it rain?