Buck-wild silver out on the trellis
of the known, snail's trail
of ooze from the rectum,
a soothing smile, a leer
on the rope, anointment
of lovemaking, payment of light
from hardening ceiling, milk-roast
that inhabits caverns and canyons
freezing into flower, the lid of rock
like a monk's mouth, bristles
articulate of wrists, sun's
urge less whipping on waves
of long unkept forests froth
mirroring out from a tremor
of total life spunk lost
in the forest celebration's
egg nothingness caught
and besieged with knuckles of bird
lay on out the blue mat--
as violins nod to the imaginary center
baby god bows out of his death tuxedo.