I don't know what I'm for
Be a river of sunshine
Be a graceful piece of thunder
Out on serpentine, the prairie grass
moves beneath the moving wind
with no uncertain grace.
Rooted, then suspend
Cloud-banks and cattle fatly graze,
and chirping careless birds
all seem idle within a nature
of brute consequence
In being, in making sense,
I slide and do I root?
My eyes are full of greens &
bending blue of sky
My ears -- the hum
of wind in trees, of dreamy
sunning bugs, of flirting seeds &
careless spume -- go mute
I settle like the hunch of fence &
warm boards, thoughtless,
unsensed. I root and settle
I am unmade
My surface skittles in the wind.
I am unmade, reduced to hand,
my fat reach, my extend. Ants &
ants. two flies loop and land.
I am two hands overlapped to hold
with every free nerve. To hold the moving air.
To bend beneath and finally to be held.
For a moment to behold every free nerve
To beheld
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