Pass Your Hands

PASS YOUR HAND Pass your hand over The face where I suspect Some salamander song Of passions and dreary touch. Eternity to the eyelids And dark blossoms to the lips The perspiration on the brow When changed to the petals. Passing your hand over The face do not bare Cold paled bleached air The long turrets Flayed apart By finger butts Sweet as a lark. Born of waters I was The child sprung of earth Taught by the winds A fearless song Sought by the multitudes The thistle and the rose Nor did a beggar sworn The fervours of venus or saturn The proud spirit only did stare Face to face in the darkened pattern.