but enough about me, Manning says / as he adjust his tights under what we take for a moon. / / There’s a cascading swagger, / everything is joy in a thin strip: / / Forgive me, the trees themselves / are morose rather than lightweight, the sky is certainly lit. / The ground bows down lik...

or by the dinking pool, or in the triumphant park. / She’s sliding over pages of a magazine, / / her scent is the scent of the sun: that stark and naked mistress, / who in her blinding coruscation, burns off her very own bikini, / / who’ll flash off underwear, a business suit and overcoat /...