The pretty girls of the fall
are not all barren as these
that fly down on the north of the mind
through the eye of the south, the red
radishes of their bare knees
advertising the onset of sleep
Bears do not hibernate; they sleep
away a lardy intoxication,
and their ladies give them the nod
inside the leaves a call
summoning the naked beast.
Some women are scared by beasts,
some animals by clumsy calls.
Some daughters make their fathers fall.
Some eyes shoot throuth the mind
like the north wind, then sleep.
Some minds, dying, drop to their knees.
But the prettiest fall of all
is my own in a gesture of love
as I are throuth the heaven of death
and the angels blow my body on,
and I head for the heart of a girl
on the soft white breast of the world.
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