The Wind Increases
The harried
earth is swept
The trees
the tulip's bright
tips
sidle and
toss—
Loose your love
to flow
Blow!
Good Christ what is
a poet—if any
exists?
a man
whose words will
bite
their way
home—being actual
having the form
of motion
At each twigtip
new
upon the tortured
body of thought
gripping
the ground
a way
to the last leaftip
earth is swept
The trees
the tulip's bright
tips
sidle and
toss—
Loose your love
to flow
Blow!
Good Christ what is
a poet—if any
exists?
a man
whose words will
bite
their way
home—being actual
having the form
of motion
At each twigtip
new
upon the tortured
body of thought
gripping
the ground
a way
to the last leaftip
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