Irradiations VIII

The fountain blows its breathless spray From me to you and back to me.

Whipped, tossed, curdled, Crashing, quivering: I hurl kisses like blows upon your lips. The dance of a bee drunken with sunlight: Irradiant ecstasies, white and gold, Sigh and relapse.

The fountain tosses pallid spray Far in the sorrowful, silent sky.