Madre de dios swinging from the rafters in your pantaloons dear mistress my long hairs following April

Or you twisting me through all my pleasures! Or you tucked with my homework under your arms

Rocket and climber, a cliff face for days to smooth

Bath or shower warden I see you in the doorway and each arm days, nights.

Madre de dios under the there up ahead and coming down unshorn legs exposed after Winter.

These slipping evenings I light your way with braisiers through the forest.

And the slipping nights your bosom! To it, and then I bury my nose the hot steam iron the whistling thin or vapid, theirs, the rose scent.

That your scene falls softly onto my train! That your dog bounces onto my train!

We’ve got often have said and in the fruits and vegetables aisle pick out

The slipping evenings from those both among the trees and the chauffeur-driven.

That the suns are bursting in these the old evening gowns!

That space itself is nine-tenths of the law! That your dog is a detective a secret agent

Rifling through my watch-pocket in search of you, or green, or the queen of days without ever leaving bed.

I believe I find a buttered roll some jam there I am again, breathing among the fairies and cigarettes, the naiads the dryads, often one of them sings

That the suns are bursting only in these slippers and evening gowns.

Night slipped into the river slowly. Was it would it have been there was only one car to crash

And my eyes don’t these or we lean onto and we take turns pruning the trees in her garden.

And I was a drinker alright. Without his help his hot air balloon o sleeplessness! O poison!

And her feet were sleeping with me and don’t my hands look the brothers of hers?

Night slipped away down south sans sucre and all my cars but one weren’t they in her collision?

I say milk or art became her carried out the smallest happinesses in her dresses

And rewrote or rerolled my old spliff of the ages. Don’t she doesn’t her genome

Drive her back chauffeured to the sea? Don’t look, look or look from a pleasure boat at her lounging there for hours, beneath us,

Sick of us. That includes her dog so soft

I know the dog house the kennel the cave opens its mouth wide and every small dress disappears in an hour!

These slippery sermonizers, these smokers these endless kisses

Are born again Toronto on horseback. They don’t they are they finished with the waffle-maker they interrupt, legally, our black-face radio show

They come on board and climb up onto old skies will she have to leave every solar system for the Rajas?

After she’s washed away every holiday she’s uncovered with her squadron of explorers?

O slippery sermons! O smoking ladies! O endless kibbutzers!