REVELATION

At your mouth, white and milk-warm sphinx,

I taste a strange apocalypse:

Your subtle taper finger-tips

Weave me new heavens, yet, methinks,

I know the wiles and each iynx

That brought me passionate to your lips:

I know you bare as laughter strips

Your charnel beauty; yet my spirit drinks

Pure knowledge from this tainted well,

And now hears voices yet unheard

Within it, and without it sees

That world of which the poets tell

Their vision in the stammered word

Of those that wake from piercing ecstasies.