One leaves his leaves at home
being a mullen and sends up a lighthouse
to peer from: I will have my way,
yellow—A mast with a lantern, ten
fifty, a hundred, smaller and smaller
as they grow more—Liar, liar, liar!
You come from her! I can smell djer-kiss
on your clothes. Ha, ha! you come to me,
you—I am a point of dew on a grass-stem.
Why are you sending heat down on me
from your lantern—You are cowdung, a
dead stick with the bark off. She is
squirting on us both. She has had her
hand on you!—Well?—She has defiled
ME.—Your leaves are dull, thick
and hairy.—Every hair on my body will
hold you off from me. You are a
dungcake, birdlime on a fencerail.—
I love you, straight, yellow
finger of God pointing to—her!
Liar, broken weed, duncake, you have—
I am a cricket waving his antenae
and you are high, grey and straight. Ha!