Mystic Triangles

[howitaddsup.livejournal.com]

Long before sex,
as children already,
biting into the hypotenuse
of an egg salad sandwich
cut diagonally in half for us
by our mothers,
we could taste the triangular
pleasures the soul
takes in the body,
taking in the bodies
of others--
eyes to mouth,
ears to chin,
the triangular soul
sees its own face
written all over the body,
which is why it loves the body,
and why we make love
by tracing the mystic
triangles with kisses,
nipples to navel,
the gleaming elbows,
the shadows of the armpits
corresponding to the pubic
darkness, that delta,
and the nose itself
bisecting infinity
in the corners.

Paul Hostovsky

I heard a wonderful poem by this poet on the radio this morning- it's called "Coconut" but I can't find any trace of it online and Hostovsky doesn't appear to have published any collections of his poetry, just some selections in journals and anthologies. Does anyone know where I could find a copy of this?