that dirty little lake-river
where under we sat
when the bubbling
and anyway
even in our twists
whoever
oh I felt and almost did you
so urgent was it then
down by the windfall
where the dreams blow by so slow
that even the daylight
through the smoke/steam
is now unended
for this is a dark,
great love of waters
.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment