The evening light was like honey in the trees When you left me and walked to the end of the street Where the sunset abruptly ended. The wedding-cake drawbridge lowered itself To the fragile forget-me-not flower. You climbed aboard. Burnt horizons suddenly paved with golden stones, Dreams I had, including suicide, Puff out the hot-air balloon now. It is bursting, it is about to burst

The first year was like icing. Then the cake started to show through.

Expecting rain, the profile of a day Wears its soul like a hat.

I feel that poetry is going on all the time inside, an underground stream.

Much that is beautiful must be discarded So that we may resemble a taller Impression of ourselves.

Not until it starts to stink does the inevitable happen.

Therefore bivouac we On this great, blond highway, unimpeded by Veiled scruples, worn conundrums. Morning is Impermanent. Grab sex things, swing up Over the horizon like a boy On a fishing expedition.