Storms Get Boring but You Don't

If my dreams lack eyelashes

If they need your violet-blue eyes well

I feel to swallow that dark-voweled word

I must do so with feeling

I understand it’s a yellow desert

Your eyes gaze upon dear girl

Your blessedly immodest eyes

Your eyes with their icy avidity

But to feel everything you see

To feel the opalescence of seeing

And now to shut your opaline eyes

And now to show your opaline knickers

O I speak with a split tongue!

I spit dappled sunlight on your body

I spew windy-wind with which

Your rococo hair loves to dance

Thirsty for your moist words dear girl

My arid throat is a yellow desert

My desiccated gullet clucks and clucks

Dryly and without a drop of irony

I dream your eyes are turbid opals

Cloudy blue gems gleaming faintly

Not with dust but with tiny star clusters

Twin galaxies frozen in stones