tBlog - Mercuryrising

07.28.06 (3:29 pm) [edit]

redirecting...

The atmosphere is not a perfume
it has no taste of the distillation,
it is odorless, It is for my mouth forever....
I am in love with it, I will go to the bank by the wood
and become undisguised and naked,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
The smoke of my own breath,
Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers,
love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine,
My respiration and inspiration,
the beating of my heart,
the passing of blood and
air through my lungs,
The sniff of green leaves
and dry leaves, and of the shore
and dark- color'd sea-rocks,
and of hay in the barn, The sound of the belch'd words
of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind,
A few light kisses,
a few embraces, a reaching around of arms,
The play of shine and shade
on the trees as the supple boughs wag,
The delight alone or in the rush
of the streets, or along the fields
and hillsides,
The feeling of health,
the full-noon trill,
the song of myself
rising from bed and meeting the sun.
.