Friday, April 24, 2009


From a thousand miles under the ground I tread
You come rolling towards me, you
Who have been approaching for millennia,
You at last sense your birth is near, only a few decades away--
You, eyeless, whose feminine features
Resemble those of the young Mozart,
Though of basalt carved;
My feet feel you walk beneath me--
Sometimes our soles are nearly touching.
When your birthday dawns
You will at last arise to greet me
And eye to eye, brow to brow,
Mouth to mouth, thigh to thigh,
I will dissolve in your igneous.

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