WHERE LOVERS HIDE

Within the grasp of a cuttlefish
who swam from the center of Eden,
a murderous symbol of nothingness
grappled with somebody's life.
This somebody was a woman,
naked and young and yearning.
Her thighs held the wines of a festival
that the sea otters called in the dawn.
Her breasts were the dreams of an octopus
who danced through the dust of the bay
and who sang of the love of the unarmed girl
who was swimming in from a whale's back.
She had caught a bird of paradise
flying up her dress and cried:
"Don't pin no unborn saviors on me!"
And pregnant with nothing but her own immense desire
she danced a tarantella with the wind
and flew through the night to an island
where the giants rode chihuahuas
and the battles all were ended by the dawn.
It was here she met her lover,
a young ruffian whose kisses were wild cherries
and the tear drops of the moon.
His horns were made of silver
and his claws were silken acrobats
that pranced across her flesh.
Together they explored the oceans,
swam the gentle air,
and immersed themselves in fires
of squirming rose petals
and snakes.
No world was left unturned
and the vast and passionate upsetting
flowered with all the dreams of those
who understood how lovers hide
within true revolutions...