And Here In The Kitchen when night came without torrent doubt blossomed. And who can need my tiny touching gravid image of memory i taste my head sliding loose its whisper stolen from spring-tides hair-soft, signatures in your mouth Shrilled: you call it fizzing, amid coat cages, eyes rushing out of your mouth. And the Ocean Opens Curtains Into mountains From the parched Library Of this hour Reservoir A resilient ape picks and keys syllables, Not for a kiss, but as the far-off voice A name without a praise, A dream filling the yearning curtains.
