reading in Italian woods
Shelley sees
ghosts on warm lawns
a platinum perimeter
of shaved light
surrounds him
Mary's peroxide halo mothership descends
his laughter
foams
her spindling hair
stiffens
his breeze
the black of night
the fruit of day
by the end of the day
he's at sea
and every molecule
is a poem
each the cry of a poet
this sea
breaks
its infinite
molecules of poems
over him