how dose you think a day begins? its
little teeth
smally thin
(as grass between)
the throats of men?
does you think it green as blades of thinness wide
,sprouted mutely?
does you go out to fields and collect it?
in your hands do it shake and quivers?
(does you bring it up to your mouth,
and does you kiss it?
entering the thick copseness of your pallet?)
who many days you been in hurt verdant roughness of coarse forests?
(you been amongst em sleeping the hot hair is full of drowsy longness
and your muscles slackly follow into deeep chambers of distilled nuthing?
you been out back? by the glade brush and the doe mouths
are white with steep petals of lingering health?
"take itup your mouth," goes the drawn trees, drawing even deeplyer
into the quant tussle of wakeless hours where a twitch don't and not
even a cat.
)the forest goes and does you ever think how those thighs
combed with coarse wreaking of bleeding youth
tasted like copper tastes hot at your tongue climbing your whole mouth
into its neat dumbness?
(the Summers there are millions of Summers left and does you think
how
a day
begins
?
