The window is wobbling -
  rain no doubt.
 Four parts water,
 one part poison
I really could do without.

You can have my Picasso.
Please lie down.
Your funerary nakedness remains
under your successful dress and gown.

Look in the smoking mirror:
you're a thinking flame.
Into your silence
I'll introduce straight rain.

From Bergamot to Tonka
on a sea breeze of turpentine!
A sulphur rose with hammer-dressed eyes,
A little light upstairs.
At a slumber party poorly lit,
a vaseline moon and would-be gems.
You sleep on it,
you're blinding me with rescue flares!

You can have my Picasso.
Please lie down.
Your funerary nakedness remains
under your successful dress and gown.