My eyes fondle carved metal and stone
Suck up jeweled faceted bronze nasturtium leaves and flowers
Feed and nourish strapped sense glued in bone marrow
We would rather swim, dance
Eyes glance and glide over polished surfaces
Lacquer gold yes I test it with my thumb
Solid
Impossible to believe that all I see is light
Reflected from images and ritual implements
Thunderbolt bell
Gleaming vajra
"Love in fantastic triumph sate..."
Philip Whalen, 16viii71
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