“The Selfish Boat”

I seek the pathway of the moon, The one toward which the heavenly vaults unfold. Resplendent idleness, what can it be? Beneath the weeping willow, effervescence smoulders. Setting flesh against flesh, make no mistake: For in these dreams, passion is felt, is barked aloud. The pond breathes out this blaze where one bends low; The branch, curved like a loin, broods and languishes. How simple it would be to sink, for a freshwater sailor! The feats pile up; the conquistador’s fury, Promised land, is swallowed whole, the one that cloaks itself in gold; The mast revives upon the russet swell.