Ocean

Tears of salt, flotsam,

ripple with the tangled reeds

languid in the sun,
like a woman's tresses
unbound in death.
 .
You wouldn't wish to go
near those shark deep, iridescent sands;
to the dinner of oysters and crabs
on posh coral plates,
or admire the rope of pearls
hung on a deck of bones.

Il Girasole

Il girasole, la mia stella gialla,
staring all noon,
come to my tired, tired,
hot Indian summer room.

La mia stella brillante,
bring a little love,
when the moon has sunk
like the folded wings of dove.

Odiare è umano,
O il girasole, beaming all day,
who loves the sun so much,
hate you not the clay?