Tuesday, September 3, 2013

3 September 2013

       Being of lambkin mind
and singular thought,
     I bleated out some thing
about the flower
   before I ate it.

Daisies are calming
like horns in some unison of exuberance
  I once made out in the warm air
and like a pedal pedal of
the whole world gently serenaded
I stood there

     See my feet
                   in the dirt
                      with the plants

did I say bees which flew or tears of water, no.
Fish's little lips breaking the surface
           for what?
                              For a fly.
White fly living out all its charming hours
and then nothing
                  down, out, on the river's water to float
  you into me
     or me into you
            says the fish, goodness
I'm just pleased we ended up here together.

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