Sonnets—Actualities II it is funny,you will be dead some day. By you the mouth hair eyes,and i mean the unique and nervously obscene need;it’s funny. They will all be dead knead of lustfulhunched deeplytoplay lips and stare the gross fuzzy-pash —dash—and the dark gold delicately smash.... grass,and the stars,of my shoulder in stead. It is a funny,thing. And you will be and i and all the days and nights that matter knocked by sun moon jabbed jerked with ecstasy ....tremble(not knowing how much better than me will you like the rain’s face and the rich improbable hands of the Wind)