eyelids laced with the brown virulant
brilliantness of an unknown Spanish shore
i am puritanical, warm and clean,
on tulle and tulle of clear-and-white sand.
the great liquid cerulean sky
gelatinates in one crackless clump above,
smooth and bald as skin.
short shards of sun-bleached hair flay
my face with blanched sheiks of salt-sharp
sand. borrowed words slip and slide
off my tongue,
rolling in great red thunder-clouts,
"está bueno, sta bene, c'est bien."
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