I like to lie with you wordless
on black cloud rooft beach
in late june 5 o’ clock tempest
on clump weed bed with sand
fitting your contours like tailor made
and I like to wash my summer brown face
in north cold hudson rapids
with octagon soap
knees niched in steamy rocks
where last night’ s frog stared
at our buddhist sleep
but most of all I like to see
the morning happen...
I like to go down vertical mountains
where lanny goshkitch
meditated
crashing poplars
sap sticky arms flailing
as thermosed green tea
anoints sneakers
and blood soakt brow I taste and love
myself a split second
and I like to feel my own full scrotum
as I horizon the whole crisp linen earth
in my beatitude waiting miguel-like
in maskt fantasy for christ-like
you —
whoever you are
but most of all I like to see
the morning happen...
I like to look at books howl
haikus of the seasons
of the mind
that I might know the knowing
and the simplest to think of all of us
taking turns at catching each other
in the rye
and I like to taste cold absinthe
on hot hung sunday mornings
discussing orgies symposiums
and sounds with hoary headed poets
in upstairs jazz club
in Japan
but most of all I like to see
the morning happen when k and ike still sleep
and only the denver night riders hum contrasts
to orient jazzy feather beasts
in the dewy garden of real earth
where I can sink my naked feet
cool