Page 27 - Contrast1966

fortune cup

The fire dragon of my teacup
infests the arena with his flame.
An impression of pink furrow wonder,
you are facing me, finally, and by chance.
"Breathe hard; blow a wind to ripple
the serenity of this small sea,
perchance a leaf might stir
for my drawn eyes to float;
a raft of refuge to your paradise."
A golden bolt speeds a line of love to your nipple
to pierce the closure and bleed the virgin pressure.

But, wait .
(The darkening leaf has sunk;
the bolt has felt a dead breast.)
You have not breathed my way.

PARTING

Parting is false:
It is a lie.
There's no meaning
In gloomy goodbye.
And farewell wishes
Of good luck forever
Have less meaning
Than time spent together.
All those dear
Leave memories behind
To linger eternally
In the mind.

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