My eyes long to thrust this refulgent sight,
this adsorbent scene:
from
the vim of some songful mockingbirds,
to the broad ingress of light
in the abundant accent of green
melting throughout the ravine.
I long to be bright
or like lunar lure
dancing above the night.
or like trees
in the radius of my arms,
with the thaw of my thirst,
unclogging
the fervent of my charm,
in my fruits aching to burst.
to the endless bow of flights,
leaning upon the heights,
furled up in glistening glaze,
the intercourse
of rising
and sun rays.
I long to join the light
dancing above the nights:
the succulent grapes of silver,
all the year
dangling the moon's chandelier.
I long to join the sight,
the giggling awakening light.
I long to grow from within,
to outcrop
the corporeal coffin,
to be born again
to embrace
and entwine
into the scene
