Imagine where salt and pepper
Were a speech, a tongue, a flame,
A new yin and a novel yang—
Occulting the neck behind
With strokes of simple art
That gives the face more light,
Redolent of the August sun
Over leas of molten wheat
Or of the palomino snow,
Just sketched in front of eyes
Into spells of calligraphic lines
That storm and swarm the heart
With inking glows and sparks—
An eyeful rich in shocking darts.
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