Beloved sinews now waning from their noon,
        cancel all caresses that are not mine
        as we walk the long sweet walking home
        caught between Grecian and lunar dusts
        shod in our gravid astroshoes
        dancing our languid saraband
        with love impaled on our glass clad faces
        to accept our deaths in our soundless paradises.

        The golden fleece will be our shrouds
           falling
                  on us
                        with all the grace
                                           of Galileo's
                                                        feather.

        February7-20, 1972