Scott Keeney
Part                                      (of a longer piece)
                                             (for Tom Clark)

The door of undress and removal of days
inches out toward night. Goodbye poets!

Lady Madonna! The art of you waits with
muddy bottom, tiny bell, and mattress eyes

cast in berry light. Wisdom narrows
to a blue kiss in which what creaks in darkness

shuts as the orgasm around meO tambourine!
parts like mind from trembling water.

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