108 Your eyes are shining in my crumpled paper lamps, When with your tongue, I tie my scraps of tearing days, When with your skin, I wipe my tears of whining wind, When with my joints, I join the splinters of your weeks, When with your ears, I link the sounds within my name, When with my lips, I paint the fresco of your face, When with my hips, I seal your seeds of growing words, When with your mouth, I heal the fever of my thirst, When with my nipples, I am writing on your chest -- Your eyes are shining in my little paper lamps.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems