My white cow tonight is quite silent
My white cow milking a heart of darkness

What tricks and silks will she tumble into
My white cow with opening parachute lips

My white cow with a shirt of woodsmoke
My white cow with a beehive of desires

Sometimes an abandon seizes her by the horns
Sometimes she is placid and sings in church

My white cow dancing in her field of fire
My white cow walking with dangerous steps

Everywhere she supposes there are cathedrals
Everywhere bells inscribe on air their spiral signs

My white cow with marked ideas of her own
My white cow whose tuft is a tangle of tempers

The baskets of air hang from her solid bones
The jugs of earth lift with her little breasts
...