hills after serpentine fer-de-lance, want bigger things waves can't splash away, scrawled slogans to turn the human tide. A bottle sits menacingly on the table -- a universe on its own, imagine her little water droplets the key to unerstanding a woman firm to the grasp bare-shouldered, lips to the moon in twilight. A coin stepped on in the street perhaps a sou, a centime, centavo a petty return for rusting bells wedding the pavement, a centotaph alluding to sacrifice or toil in the fields to gain one circular disc. Bring a case of wine those Puerto Rican girls are dying to meet you, the tune belts out and I see a yacht riding emerald waves, think of swimming out to greet her, my skin opening the water like a lizard's tongue, a sheaf of leaves pressed back, a rock pitched to dislodge a noisy cat. Who tempers desire in the tropics when the air is to eat, sand golden griddles a harvest of warm wealth piled as a miser's hoard, green & more green skirting the city, experience my sacred vessel of purity. Think or cliff vines mucous, little curtains then pathways up to the final alley psychologically taut. 35 36 37 Back to the Contents Page THE CABLE CAR The Haitian effect of stars grinds the blue firmament like a cable car by night. transfixing energy. One hears myriad tokens falling into a collection box, then the twitter of bells before the trolley steps round winds near Russian Hill The night sky is a reservoir, a cistern stored with disturbing elements prickling the unknown in a man. To watch as life forms, more intricate than lavender curls, so hushed their tones produce melodies like "Castor and Pollux", "Leo", "the Three Sisters", seizes any boarding pass along the remaining train of thought. 38 Back to the Contents Page IL GIARDINO Cloves on the table. (jardin parfumel are like ladyslippers with the jargon of their sweetmeats preserved in aromatic slabs about a garden wall. Spanish ivy is the pastrami of this terrace -- thick, white walls, Hispanic style, unite with prim elasticity to quicken Picasso's sunshine like a ukulele strumming the grave. 39 Back to the Contents Page EVERY MAN'S HAND raised against them hussars, cossacks, zouaves the renegade janizaries and corsairs in for an indeterminale stretch assorted soldiers of fortune, never-do-wells or just low brows duelling crusts of bread scarce
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