Channelling - A Cut-Up Poem

Two girls stood apart. Both of them streets and glowing lamplight. One of them I liked brimming sound and gathering delight. She wore purple heavy make-up; the other rub and bounce of flesh – carried downhill in eyes. I turned to her with life, charged and channelling in the tree with desire. I turned away. I did with fire and glowing youths, life leaping all an answer, like a curious child. I knew burn of evening. I was looking for alcoholic splendour – glimmer wouldn’t find it lying. We lay on the floor, a taxi confused by distance. Sound echoed in the woods looking at me. A ball of voices burst through was more natural, but with seductive dark around. The woods were radiant, an opportunity to sing silver buckled boots. The girls wore black image of life. We were the flames, given their souls to evening.