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Torn into light, you woke wriggling 
on a woman's palm. Halved, quartered, 
shredded to the wind, you were the life 
that thrilled along the underbelly 
of a stone. Stilled in the frozen pond 
you rinsed heaven with a sigh. 

How much earth is a man. 
A wall fies down and roses 
rush from its teeth; in the fists 
of the hungry, cucumbers sleep 
their lives away, under your nails 
the ocean moans in its bed. 

How much earth. 
The great ice fields slip 
and the broken veins of an eye 
startle under light, a hand is planted 
and the grave blooms upward 
in sunlight and walks the roads.

Added: 25 Feb 2002 | Last Read: 12 Sep 2026 3:50 AM | Viewed: 5007 times

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