"THE
VOICE IN THE GARDEN"
Your
eyes
Coat
the flaming hen
Dug
one wise
Cating
the universe
Of
its sprouts
Flooding
the fields
Of
your face
The
tea and thistles
In
the intestines
of
your waste
Good
and evil guards
Your
dark-skinned wife
If
she were the man
In
the shrewd garden
She'd
open the roots
Of
the agreeable tree
Seed
of the gentleman God
Snake
the convulsing bear
Sorrow
eats the day of the fruit
The
thick beast
Pearls
your dark Mrs.
The
voice in the garden
wish
every tree
And
the cursed above
You're
the yeoman
Of
the God Cave
Choose
one or another
The
kind on couches
Who
wind their heads
And
pose their large black eyes
In
bloom forever their shells
As
a reward
Hidden,
pending
The
flesh birds of youth
With
beakers
And
a cup drinking nil
Of
ache in the garden of delight
Reasons
go around them
With
goblets resembling Paradise
Flowing
undisturbed
and
precious
you
will be as God
©1999, Michael Zugin