Soon the magnolia buds will
throw their veils to the wind like Oriental brides
and expose themselves
like the full moon, virgin white;
—every bridegroom that has an ear, let him hear;
every beloved that has a nose, let him smell;
every lover that has a mouth, let him taste—
it will be magnolia season soon.
Craftsmanship
My beloved friend,
I so want to sculpt you a poem,
but the clay slips pass my fingers unimpressed,
the chisel ricochets etchless from the marble's cheek.
I know well how to fold a woman's form—
my artist's eye is well informed with her curved lines,
my writer's tongue knows her dunes and ravines.
But you, my friend, leaves me speechless.
Who will teach me this craftsmanship?
How do I scribe the love of male companionship?
