Remarked when Owl’s chuckling first soft cry and the first star. A long stretched hour it was; all safely sown
as hatracks into peachtrees grow or hopes dance best on bald men’s hairand every finger is a toe and any courage is a fear long enough and just so long will the impure think all things pure and hornets wail by children stung or as the seeing are the blin and robins never welcome spring nor flatfolk prove their world is round nor dingsters die at break of dong and common’s rare and millstones float long enough words
Like the touch of rain she was. On a man’s flesh and hair and eyes
moutains She speaks in our spirit
making me feel how myself has been coarse and dull compared with you, silently who are and cling to my
perfect day beauty is there
have you said of beauty. Yet in truth you spoke not of her but of needs unsatisfied. And beauty is not a need but an ecstasy
all these things
thirsting nor an empty hand stretched forth
But rather a heart enflamed and a soul enchanted and it is not the image you would see