My Tongue Is Pierced With Glass.

Green How I Love You Green. Green Wind. Green Boughs. The Ship On The Sea And The Horse On The Mountain.

Ditty Of First Desire In The Green Morning I Wanted To Be A Heart. A Heart. And In The Ripe Evening I Wanted To Be A Nightingale. A Nightingale. (soul, Turn Orange-colored. Soul, Turn The Color Of Love.) In The Vivid Morning I Wanted To Be Myself. A Heart. And At The Evening's End I Wanted To Be My Voice. A Nightingale. Soul, Turn Orange-colored. Soul, Turn The Color Of Love.

To Burn With Desire And Keep Quiet About It Is The Greatest Punishment We Can Bring On Ourselves.

Relish The Fresh Landscape Of My Wound, Break Rushes And Delicate Rivulets, Drink Blood Poured On Honeyed Thigh.

Devoutly The Teachers Point Out Huge Fumigated Domes; But Beneath The Statues There's No Love, No Love Beneath The Eyes Set In Crystal. Love Is There, In Flesh Ripped By Thirst, In The Tiny Hut Struggling Against The Flood; Love Is There, In Ditches Where Snakes Of Hunger Wrestle, In The Sad Sea That Rocks Dead Gulls, And In The Darkest Stinging Kiss Under Pillows.