I want to grab you by the star of your eye
and pull you, brain first, into a lithium lake
of electric light, a dazzling flora aflame
in a heliophagic forest.
I want to hold you by the snake of your tongue
and wind you up and down the voice-laden vineyards
of my Hallelujah hillside, its frosted mezzo-sopranos
still lush on the vine.
I want to scoop out your soul and knead
it into my yeasty dough, watch it rise with
the sun and the Son and the sons of
a cauliflower country, armed to the jaws
with handkerchiefs and splintered wood.
I want to wash over you like the tide of an
ocean that ceased to ebb and flow long before
our race was unearthed.