Pine: Taste, Touch and Sight

I

More and more, through slow breaks

In the wind no a different no this

Wind, another life of you rises,

A saliva-gland burns like a tree.

You are what you eat

and what will flutter

Like food if you turn completely

To your mouth, and stand wide open?

A wafer of bark, another

Needle, bitter rain by the mouthful coming.

Hunger swirls and slowly down

Showers and are your children

What you eat? What green of horror

And manna in the next eye

To come from you? And will he whistle

From head to foot?

Bitter rain by the mouthful coming.

JAMES DICKEY

u

More hands on the terrible rough.

More pain but more than all

Is lodged in the leg-insides. More holding,

Though, more swaying. Rise and ride

Like this and wear and ride

Away with a passionate faceful

Of ply and points. The whole thing turns

On earth, throwing off a dark

Flood of four ways

Of being here blind and bending

Blacked-out and framed

Suspended and found alive in the rough palm-

And thigh-fires of friction, embracing in the beyond

It all, where,

Opening one by one, you still can open

One thing more. A final form

And color at last comes out

Of you alone putting it all

Together like nothing

Here like almighty

m

Glory.