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 me—O tambourine!—
parts like mind from trembling water.