in my singular joy of writing about love as pee

[joel]

Exquisite as a ribbon waterfall
or as an arc of light refracted on
the dome of Heaven’s clearest waters, swift
and graceful have a pissed in solitude
in summer’s wooded, verdant loneliness—
uncomplicatedly connected to
atomic patterns carpeting my soul
(how true they trust each other to the role
assigned and intricate to each) and few
are time-stops beautiful as these, which stress
some universal loveliness that crude
ejaculation’s even Glory’s gift
of common wonder. Let it dawn—
you, beauty— more than pissed-off beauties small.