In the cloister, in the Temple of the Sacred Fountain

In the cloister, in the Temple of the Sacred Fountain,
a monk is scooping up dead pigeons from the fountain. 

Sick of the void, they grew a body round the heart
after they had devised a garden round the fountain.

Quiet evenings change the body to an aqueduct,
the phallus celebrating the stonework a fountain.

Night has come; now all fountains speak more loudly,
so Nietzsche writes, and my soul, too, is a fountain.

The reason a woman brings her buckets to a well
is the same reason lovers embrace by a fountain.

Jee, you may quarry from the sun the finest stone.
A form, even of Triton, does not make a fountain.