Love Song

If as I turn my mind. I turned my body
Hip to hip aligned with yours.
What wonders would the after-sense reveal.
What contours would the clouds assume?
And would the mountains turn from their pristine heights
And deliver, like an incantation, the secret of their beauty?

Would the bland and flippant [unclear: blucness] of the sky
Become profound, an [unclear: interted] couch for my sky-flown,
Light-footed, super-ego, O [unclear: igolie] spirit.

Perhaps I should be amazingly absorbed and [unclear: perraded]
(Not without some Justice) with [unclear: inreterate] desires
To repent the warmth of dual fusion hip to hip.
The wind sounding an idle rirelay down dark, deserted streets
Or waring and binding like a bow the hillside grass and trees.

O woman he sings of you.