Like tender shoots tremble end over end
            Over the precise and smooth expanse bend
            Alone in the crowded fields of lemon grass
            Like an ever-growing and cropping range
            Of discarded lime sighs in greedy impasse

            Prostrated to the unctuous task
            Spread deceitful under a film of musk
            Mere incarnate stirrings beneath feathery coals
            And sprays of froth and acid cyclic rage
            Spewing the ecstatic surge upon breathy shoals

            Falsely stolid graces beguile anew
            Pinched lemon melting on down bitter grew
            The twisted and pale-yellow skins with sour tips
            Languid droop in prolonged melodious flow
            Pegged with crafty blacks arranged like musical quips

            The proud crane could not be but down was brought
            Fluttering with preparatory heaves
            Framed by black feathers aglow in a field of snow
            A silken kite -- a darkly shining site
            Amid a shivering shadow of shimmering white

            Spicy and craved -- a demure tail is sought
            Gelatinous white carved with feather leaves
            Grazing a dank pitted paddy, grain rising in sight
            Neatly assembled burn the auburn reeds
            Straight stalks lining along adorn the newborn needs            

            Cracked porcelain exuding dewy contemplation
            Pink fruit oozing bitter circumspection
            Yellow-stained skin punctured with faded and plump dates
            Lemon extracts crated in crusty and raw mates

            With stout burnt-out grass the avid air reeks
            Charged with sparks of flashing grins and peeks
            Heavy indolent vapors of well abused breath
            Fits and starts set all ablaze and tender
            Before the pungent winds change to a searing bath

            Swollen fare to dwell the fleshy inside
            Willing and wet eye does raptly abide
            Words reborn and exultant string along their own
            To find themselves and in fullness render
            The whole and parts surrender to be fully shown

            Quiet unrehearsed whimpers end the play times
            Sever the merry insouciance of chimes
            And bring the moral wings of elevated gloom
            To flap with noxious regularity
            Which only evens the brackish airs all too soon

            Aged softness, timeless dawn of theory
            A shroud pinned by dull morning memory
            Which trembling by dint of retaining the bare glow
            Can not last but loses its charity
            Leaving behind nothing but stranded words for show

            Collapsed opposites suckling dry life
            Immaculate murk of seductive strife
            Tangle of empty wisps full of shrill whirling worlds
            Distant remains of the stunned nearness
            Of abysmally shrunk indifferent cosmic swirls

            Filled with hunger the emptiness of more
            Which must bring about its own thirsty lore
            In an orderly mess of well conceived largess
            Besotted calm but for a quaking sore
            And yet we are everything, still, without a core

            Sad whooping crane!  Downed and exhausted bird!
            Still dancing to cadences to be heard?
            Circle round with round bulbous eyes fixed by the sight
            Of the fray -- piled spoils on a silver tray
            Warm, still, the bare leftovers of the famished night.