1914
6.87
28.iii.25
among these trees
to which I belong
eyes up, afoot
where I’m possessed
making
as all are
in the image
a forest of words just
each a picture or
turn one over with a stick
see the others under
trudge
look up!
take a rise
full the fruit
there’s nothing must
a flight of song reminding
how often I’m borne off
and then no am
no self
no I
some question
and it blows away
to make a crown of mists
if wander, make it riff
look up!
to shine the leaf
come sun
come rain
a hutch and hide me shy
well slept
call it a community
it consists of calls
to task, to tribute
to tell out time
most you make out
but try
then in the air and under
every necessary inch
let me assure you
there’s nothing decided
we’re up to our next tricks

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