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Poem XIV

Bare handed I have walked the length of you
still amazed by the power of your simplicity.
I have mounted you and dared to ride your violence
I have become it and then
I have gone farther into the multiplicity of its rhythm
to touch without regrets the wetness of perfection
to learn that there is no right approach
by which to grasp the many sides of your totality
and if by chance I cross the inner circle of your virginity
the belly-button of oblivion
I, my lady, have acknowledged you to be: my whore
a victim of my fantasy entrapped by my desire
an almost impalpable tenderness within my tongue
after the passion has disintegrated me
to a guiltless uniformity of self.
Yes, there is no escape from you
and I exist in the knowledge
that I will prepare myself to die my death each day
with jubilant perversion:
a citadel within the citadel of your genitals
a cornerstone of your profile.

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