My eye twists, pans the room, while drinking;
It dives down well below my own understanding,
Of diving bells and bubbles of hours, of real meaning—
underneath a sheet, beneath beautiful women, still teething.
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My Poetry & Prose
My eye twists, pans the room, while drinking;
It dives down well below my own understanding,
Of diving bells and bubbles of hours, of real meaning—
underneath a sheet, beneath beautiful women, still teething.