Early Poetry 1965-1966

sun flickers. daylight beats hard at the pane,
grinning at my sleep-drenched eyes and calling
my name in yellow tones.
the flickering sun sings to me. loudly, for i lie
deep in seaweed waves, lulled by the blue-green tides.
but i will not rise to the golden-glowing,
green-struck, bell-ringing day and turn back
into my dreams to find the naked trees
that rose like steam from a crack in the pavement
and curled around the yearning air.

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