Cy Towambly By Campfire

Why would you shake your feathers at me
When the silky firelight's done
In number on our outlines?

For a spell you look like sight
Plumply spills his midnight
Grass and mineral stone

These hazy hills here there
Slinky laughter drifting
To milky firelight

First in every spin of folding lips
Topple two-part ink dish
Rose and rose shag
Figured inkfish

Inside inside
Compania
Botanica

Side plumply spills his coffee

Why do you shake your pleasures at me
When the silky firelight's done
In number on our outlines?