XX
The sea that encloses her young body
ula lu la lu
is the sea of many arms--
The blazing secrecy of noon is undone
and and and
the broken sand is the sound of love--
The flesh is firm that turns in the sea
O la la
the sea that is cold with dead men's tears--
Deeply the wooking that penetrated
to the edge of the sea
returns in the plash of the waves--
a wind over the shoulder
large as the ocean--
with wave following wave to the edge
coom barrooom--
It is the cold of the sea
broken upon the sand by the force
of the moon--
In the sea the young flesh playing
floats with the cries of far off men
who rise in the sea
with green arms
to homage again the fields over there
where the night is deep--
la lu la lu
but lips too few
assume the new--marrruu
Underneath the sea where it is dark
there is no edge
so two--
XXIII
The veritable night
of wires and stars
the moon is in
the oak tree's crotch
and sleepers in
the windows cough
athwart the round
and pointed leaves
and insects sting
while on the grass
the whitish moonlight
tearfully
assumes the attitudes
of afternoon--
But it is real
where peaches hung
recalling death's
long promised symphony
whose tuneful wood
and stringish undergrowth
are ghosts existing
without being
save to come with juice
and pulp to assuage
the hungers which
the night reveals
so that now at last
the truth's aglow
with devilish peace
forstalling day
which dawns tomorrow
with dreadful reds
the heart to predicate
with mists that loved
the ocean and the fields--
Thus moonlight
is the perfect
human touch.
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