concrete poetry

quietly, with reverance, in awe
as a naked man i go
we break the glass whose sacred wine
from song and dream for ever gone
my mother taught me that every night
there was a strangeness on your lips
up from the meadows rich with corn
to some the fat gods
music i heard with you was more than music
look out upon the stars, my love
what was it the engines said
a flying word from here and there