sing sighs softly
o' wind
i walk with you
and i regard myself
(and how shall i regard myself?)
am i you?
do i flick or flutter?

without lips your whispers
are like incessant draping
fibers looser than tighter.

o' wind then,
answer me
are you again me?
or perhaps am i you?
you are like seas
bashful and incredible
you fold and buckle
seamless reams of
fingerless hands
you are barely muscles
and whole glancing
infinities.

of me, is there some
quality, that is you?
or do i remain a
simple foible?
a little meekness?
or am i(like you almost)
terrible and beautiful?

(well you don't say
a thing so i'll do this:
i'll **** my timid notion
and my diminutive weak
body will die too and oceans
of laughter will pile a crisp
tumult from my breast and
i'll yoke darkness to my shoulders
and i'll cram out into fathomless
tiny space every inch and dash of me
and i'll be beautiful like you O' WIND
i'll be beautiful like your dreadful glorious heave)