Let thought become your beautiful lover

For then thought will be as noiseless as a mellowing pear, or it will lope out like a

wind-wild unbridled horse, or pause with you on your balcony,

taking in the sea smell, not hearing the words of the poet saying love is an

ornate piano, love is a seismic pulse, love is never anything a poet says it is.

It will be as enchanting as a wandering orphic singer in her little boat surrounded by

attentive birds.  Indeed, were I not now furling my sails and

hastening to turn my prow toward land, I might hold forth further on the topic. 

And you might think me beautiful.