Snyder - Regarding Wave

Sloped-down shark nose, high frilly taildorsal fins flat sweeping gestures.

Ah, puked out. sweep the sea. broom my rear is soft
Three, and their retinue, move up between slender, with dignity, WE pile up, pile up, our deep-mounting pleasure in our richness is not chaos. scatterings and plains, placings.
Brothers moving elsewhere visible and tall, but far away.

Two thigh hills hold us at the fork round mount center
we sit all folded on the dusty planed planks of a shrine drinking top class sak that was left for the god.
calm tree halls the sun past the summit heat sunk through the vines, twisted sasa
cicada singing, swirling in the tangle
the tangle of the thigh
the brush through which we push SLEPT folded in girls feeling their folds; whorls; the lips, leafs, of the curling soft-sliding serpent-sleep dream. Line of brow, purst mouth blue straight seamless snapless dress O! cunt that which you suck into yourself, that you hold there, hover over, excellent emptiness your whole flesh is wrappt around, the
hollow you bear to bear,
shows its power and place in the grace of your glance Eating the living germs of grasses Eating the ova of large birds
the fleshy sweetness packed around the sperm of swaying trees
The muscles of the flanks and thighs of soft-voiced cows the bounce in the lambs leap the swish in the oxs tail Eating roots grown swoll inside the soil Drawing on life of living clustered points of light spun out of space hidden in the grape. Line of brow, purst mouth blue straight seamless snapless dress O! cunt that which you suck into yourself, that you hold there, hover over, excellent emptiness your whole flesh is wrappt around, the
hollow you bear to bear,
shows its power and place in the grace of your glance Eating the living germs of grasses Eating the ova of large birds
the fleshy sweetness packed around the sperm of swaying trees
The muscles of the flanks and thighs of soft-voiced cows the bounce in the lambs leap the swish in the oxs tail Eating roots grown swoll inside the soil Drawing on life of living clustered points of light spun out of space hidden in the grape.

Eating each others seed eating ah, each other. Kissing the lover in the mouth of bread: lip to lip.

Beautiful little children found in melons, in bamboo, in a strangely glowing warbler egg a perfect baby girl baby, baby, tiny precious mice and worms:
Great majesty of Dharma turning Great dance of Vajra power lizard baby by the fern centipede baby scrambling toward the wall cat baby left to mew for milk alone mouse baby too afraid to run
O sing born in spring the weavers swallows babies in Nishijin nests below the eaves glinting mothers wings swoop to the sound of looms
and three fat babies with three human mothers every morning doing laundry good morning hows your baby? Tomoharu, Itsuko, and Kenji
Mouse, begin again. Bushmen are laughing at the coyote-tricking that made us think machines
wild babies in the ferns and plums and weeds. One child rides a bike Her blue dress flutters about her gliding white-clad hips