So I might suffer without fail the vengeance of leaves
Crumbling, vein by vein, to the docks of autumn's dust
And burn again in a rasping year
My fled blood
Both woke and broke
Flood and voice over the sea-turning town.
So that the wail of the crickets might knock and enter
Each sad shadow passage of the pulse
Burning in the shining rivers that skip out of sight.
In the helping hurt of the one-armed weather
Flinging hailstones and adders
Down the ocean-thieving tunnel of the sky
Against this head
I swore all summer dumb
While the ministering crickets in the booming grass
Chanted phylums of my blood about to be said
And I stood in the summer's drum
By the roaring going of the year.
Ignorant of thistlery we walked in our mystery
Arm in arm like the burning boughs
Friends against death in the summer's long breath,
And like the sun we sauntered
Drunk and wandered
Through the closed book of the heart;
And I was sky and sunlight in the chapters of the grass.
Oceans in acorns my strumming mermaids are.