I kissed a poet last night.
Out in the field of compassion
A royal blue sky lit with candles
Hung as a ceiling, a quartet of soul sisters
Singing, an empty cup overflowing
A river of scarlet lips in prayer,
The experience of this companion
Calling to every inconceivable crevice
Of this passionate body.
I kissed a poet last night
Igniting a pilgrimage of stars.
Oh! What a shipwreck he has made me.
(c) A Hannan