Excerpt from "Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon"
Full woman, fleshly apple, hot moon,
thick smell of seaweed, crushed mud and light,
what obscure brilliance opens between your columns?
What ancient night does a man touch with his senses?
Loving is a journey with water and with stars,
with smothered air and abrupt storms of flour:
Loving is a clash of lightning-bolts
and two bodies defeated by a single drop of honey.
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