revolutions is began


the ruby is my cherry

she says leaning over the car window

to point out her teeth

ka-pam goes the fair missile

we are gloved for the kestrel


I deal over the fair coffee table

that is my salute

in comprising all the candy-covered chocolates

of a bona fide world traveler

clips the motion of the sun

in its orbit


there are no lips going to tell

and if I do mention all the large orders

that come down the pike

I have not been smiling

and nor do I whistle says I

I keep the pike handy for my love

who sings in the shower

golden oldies


the far wheat in the talked-about o’ergrown

pandemonium ‘gins to subside

I have whatever left to coincide

at length whatever

glides home westward

to beef on a string