These redwood giants stand up,
Their deep roots feeding the earth pleasure,
And their shoots flirting with the sun.
Nobody will climb them except in the forest
Where just that way past the hill the sensual ones
Are blushing under silent caresses.
I met one that was like an octopus
Whose beak I sensed but never felt.
Firmly gripped--soft arms on me
In a fog, not sure what I saw.