Without a measure I cannot make sense

Without a measure I cannot make sense
of this broad library, of the stanzas
in the explicit verse. The tangled lovers
and confused conflicts, I can hear the cadence

of the drums and flutes. Her curving form
designs the day time, how the flowers move
and bees shake pollen, how the blue jays go
from tree to tree without sound. Without measure

the music has no meaning, the relationships
between the pitches are like dances of
the different luminaries coupled. Her splendid

red lips and porcelain neck, the swan that sits
on the surface of the pond. I love the degree
of her situation as it slowly changes.