Of Fond Amusements

The soaring sinews of morning sunrise, Ascend like attacking phantoms with flailing spears; They rise thinking of fond amusements in the foggy darkness; They appear as an apparition appears through an old curtain, As a suffering ghost lurking, groaning in the back room there, In the old back mansion Amidst the dark tuft of beckoning willows, Out back, hidden and forbidden, their erotic shadows. Then we stand close together, I have my fingers on Cape Hatterus, Gently and firmly, as ripe apples in the wind Topple, I guided you breathlessly amongst the doilies. I let my masticating mind fixate visions of contorting sweat. I, as a force of destiny, Spiraled straight into boneless sockets. Don't move female person, you, with wafts of perfume strong, Stare into me female person, stare into my eyes, There is no other river to cross, The boa constrictors have put on blinders. They don't see you. They don't care. But I do. As a lone bloom on a strong myrtle branch, I see you over there, As much as the sky sees our rising voices, But now my brain hears your voice, Yet you are silent.