"holding inside
your firm body the seed of my awakening

the lucid wisdom of poesie dangling
between your *******

luring me into this native clay
the level ground below

falling into the darkened earth
a corn of wheat

to be planted    moving toward bloom
unfurling in the noonday sun

striving to pay the price of this sheltered love
I push the poem upon you"

"the heads of wheat have been plucked now
the grains slowly eaten
soon -- today -- the time to plant again
and he has spoken to me only in parables
surely there is something I can say that will not speak of love
surely there is another name for me to take than this one
called germinating    called Harvest"