James Scully
Paradise
There are no men, no women,
there is human
Without irony,
because that’s what left to wish for
Making love is more
than poor stick buried in a hole
Finger-tips dance over buttocks and breast
as ants through the fresh-turned earth
So thoroughly into life
we need not describe it anymore
—from Scrap Book, 1977
Scrap Book Curbstone Press 1977
