Song of the Afternoon

Song of the Afternoon

Pentameter of thought,
I walk with thee iambic
Along asbestine shores.
Our footprints
Are asteriated whispers
In the sand.

Aurelia, you echoed to me once
Astyler through the mansions of desire.
Your audile lips soft kisses on me sang
But I was deaf to you and to your ways.

Aspurges me,
Deserting thoughts,
With warm aspersions,
Sitting, sipping time,
In the aftermath
Of the aubade.

Not even Death
Or gold of sunsets
Sing as sweetly as
Your wings are made.

(written circa 1966)


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