the gift                                                 

a yellow * box

with

banana leaves bunching

as tightly in wisps of these your ingot

tresses * in a fasces slung * of almond batter

(wound round)

on long vanilla beans

suspended . . . where at regular intervals

petals are with cinnamon

so * secured * as

upon which your name

is written in a ruby ink invisible

until

the * day

with the least light

of the new ptolemaic year . . . * when

out of the yellow box

will fall

many books

with * blank faces

which if you gather up

and arrange *

according

to the number

carved * in marzipan

upon the spines * the bindings * the veins

will spell out the secret liturgy of

my * most hidden adorations

my * most clandestine

desires

lingam                                                 

will *

is this purely : the inner

amalgam * as the blood to brim

the running veins

in its direct *

sense

abiding * to quiver

the pink as lovely delay . . . (awaits)

now

the * tender

(as) touch as wet

in a sudden if awful adieu . . . as inside as

a wetness

which in its wan abundance

buries * down the quivering bud . . . a clutch

to which

one * must abandon * one

’s hopes : too rife with delight’s desires * to fill

the unlocked lily

in its O too tender embrace . . . or

to hold the warm head

so in a floral *

abandon :

a pulse-

rose

upon the stomach

slick here as dew-belled

all * with the beaded stars of

sweat

fingers *

as in thighs as in

the new carnation * blooming

as wet to warm

caress . . . to quiver the ticklish

rivulets

as * a flesh

of watermelon (frill)

which juices out its replenishable suck . . .

redly

to * wind

the droplets down in a lisse

of adorable warmth *

while * (as

passage) a shiver possesses * the chamber

the living body in

all * its * all-

devouring

embrace . . . so the pulse * trembles

to sigh repose

in *

a silence

of the fresh-

created * image : the world

of its pure * breath possessed

as the tongue * its so

sweet syrup

sublime

cake                                          

crumble *

up into the wet

which awaits you O * sweetness !

to be

fulfilled . . . *

as spicy the zest in its hotness * rises

replacing

the greenness to swill . . . (down) the odours

in the pristine saucer so

relinquished . . . *

a honey-

comb of loam

to break the darkness * rimmed

as burnt (as)

surprising out a rum-gum

goblet : a cherry of all its ball embraced *

a ruby rich in the crumble’s

midst!

origin                                          

borne

out of the unhidden * voices

within my heart

to where the roses * burn in a scented

dust * with

an odour

of you . . . in this newness

such as to the last light’s flame * to flare

up as up-

on your face * in a lily

of the sun’s reproach

or

so * to hold

this the flame’s abandoned

trace . . . face of the evening fields

which now the night is * beloved * so are you !

not to dissipate past passions

spent *

but so the flame

may too etch a figure here

with star-lily held * so high aloft

to light our passage : the familiar stair

which winds down so

slowly here * into

the abiding

heart