Web of sand, or beach, very very still.
On a window sill, perhaps misplaced, was a stallion spider, astride the sill, astride the stall and the affrontery of the stall. A pugilist, shadow boxing, or is it a trans-gender, shadow boxing, or a stallion, in a stall, as misplaced as a shadow spider, on a wall.
A twittering bird,
Twitters of romantic love,
Women, all of them perfect,
Especially as babies, and that’s why we call them babies,
Do show themselves to special effect,
On sand.
On beaches.
The sand sticks to their lovable skin, as black velvet to a diadem.
Spam of Human Affection 
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