Snaking all along the line
Yuri’s mouth pops out from my receiver
Like a full-blown flower:
The moon is soft.
My brain is taxed in the cave
I can’t make out these paintings:
Arrows and smothering pillows
Hills and vales and rivers.
Do you think they are of hunting?
The arrows fly and the pillows smother.
A cosmography written in secret script
Which should be felt.