Virginity in shorts squatting on a big rock

...there are other worlds. Felt them in a summer forest,
afternoon, floating near mushrooms and fallen
shards of bark. Touched them with descendant hands.
Time I'd known was gone in a pinch of (barely) autumn air
dodging between unprepared trees.

The hollow: nobody comes back: is what he spoke,
clinging to a leaf as he was falling. And a silver bucket
filled with hallucinatory beer
stood on a mossy stump,
metallic among the brown histories.

So take a drink
And drink we did
from inside
so many bodies that we are.
The kiss we took from each other
floated above the silver
bucket of beer. And the stump split halfway down
by lightning
when its surroundings
were low in the soil, showed us a mouth to put parts
(nimble, unconscious)
of our bodies Into.