You’ll play these maidens for fools, Dancer dear, Cropped hair atomic pink, steel stud shining In your bottom lip, a bank your tongue overflows When you giggle. Look at you: baby blue UFO pants, rainbow Piping, your silly little bump and grinding; Kandi-coated arms flail like tipsy windmills, Funky Dutch style. Soon you’ll need to pop that paci inside Your mouth, you’re so toon-eyed and trippy But I’d rather plant my own...

What am I anticipating? A knocking at my door. Chance for some prevaricating: I'm naked on the floor. Random bits of scintillating Chit-chat from above: Floating hyperventilatingMoans of making love. The stranger coming to my gate Will knock and pass on by; I will not move nor soon nor late Till I'm on wing to fly. My finger knows its ready dance; I dance and bop for one. I suffer now no lustful glance Except from yonder...

I thought they buried you in the snowLast winter-- but, pray, was that me?Curious, how I’ve nowhere to go,But pace the graves at half past three:Mysterious ‘tis, where goes my mindThese bleary days since I spied you last;It seems I’m cloistered from my kind,Lost, amazed, in the winding past.But look at you! As snowflakes white,Trellised atop the gravestone’s perch!How does your trembling lip invite,Like toll of midnight b...