Pleasure Place
By Casey Jepson
© 2001


In my venerable pleasure place under the stars
sided on three by a warming blue sea
There be tree-borne fruit of countless decorum
Butterflies rest on grass grown electric green
Violet-strewn paths stretching hither and thither
Berries aboud overripe on the vine
And twice-monthly snows of duo day winters.
Scented of cedar twixt freshly washed pine

In my doming desire a slow-falling water
Meets stones wet for stepping
Cross translucent stream
Down river to sparkling sand-castle beaches
Feed the rise-less tide
Near where the half-elven breed
Void of sharp corners that make your feed bleed
Or tasteless black crabs and dank ocean-weed.

In my home with a fiddle, a flute and a loot
On grass soft as powder 'neath the sparkled night sky
We lay with our lovers resting open-wide eyes
Weighed with a feast of twelve blackberry pies,
Glazed hams, candied yams, gyros with feta,
Grape juice, shaved ice, crepes with neutilla.

In my dome's a sequoia in centering status
On levels upon it one sees to the sea
And one wall of granite by morning-bright caves
Where dripping stalactites roam silent and free
Tasting of sugar that freshens your breath
Clean as a crystal lies a life without death.

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