With Garcia Lorca by the pier, Vomiting --

lobsters tainted with an increase of Spirit shun

Quartets or Pearls, ladies’ breasts

floating in the water the mongrel face

of a cut diamond bleeding

her white powdered urge this Symphony

she claims as her Own the root

Equation exploding in emeralds

or Rubies our reliquary Shame un-

Earthed in a darkening corridor Stripped

Naked before our Creator a

young Man with a death Sentence

hushed in heaving throngs of purple bodies

who would gun you down in Andalucia, throw

your body in a River but you will

Sing the cante jondo from Cordoba

to Coney Island you will not die, Federico,

We wind our legs around our backs, inhale

the opulent Scents of these Women

and drown in gilded cages to erupt

in Spring --