We fill clouds so that they may dance.
By and by songs us alone hear, alone,
Hands full, and non nondescript sunshine
Pastels and seed-water lulls and beckons ‘hug'.
These clouds, they are not yours to influence, 
Pull like kites or dogs on a leash. We
Fill hearts for ourselves also, hearts of ourselves also,
With promise rather than with ink.

Woman takes it. Take it all, and then I’ll give you my own. Feels of your immaterial, your condescended air, 
Your inappropriate lingers, your rabid descents;
Descend continually on her skin and on her throat!

In the end-
Man don’t choose for me but choose to listen:
Woman is the sky on which you seldom stand.
In fact, never.

--Ah. Is this why you try,
Repeat, and
Shatter?
To stand atop me?

Woman

Woman is a woman’s shout;
No cloud can shush me.
You must have thought you had a say
But man my woman isn't craftily written rhetoric,
We aren’t the pen lines you thought naught of;
The shout! The shout! that creates worlds, We are;
Yours, indeed, included.
 

Yet woman is humble. Perhaps,
Learn from this, man who
Writes himself down on all land
Upon which you stand and under
-Stand that Woman
Is ravaged, but she is not tame. She
Remains a woman. Woman
Is savage. The only of two animals that owns
The dysphoria psychology of shatter and repeat.
Repeat.Shatter.Repeat.
Replete. and heal, Woman.

Replete. and heal, Woman.
Shout!
For yours is the voice that breaks through every cloud.
Yours is the kite, the lung, the mouth.
Yours is everything that screams to whisper, 
To comfort, 
And know nothing else. No, nothing else.
Nothing else, man I’m afraid, matters.

And that, Like the sun, sun-like Woman knows.