6373. THE HAND-HELD MOMENT

THE HAND-HELD MOMENT

If Nature was a friend to me I'd gladly walk her

hollows; the titillation of her gorges and the

rocks and waterfalls throughout. I'd camp out

in Watkins Glen illegally, just to see her

respiration : deep and dark in Midnight's

night, I'd follow every glimmer of the

onrushing light, of morning, of day,

of every next-up constellation.

-

Gladly, most gladly, I'd be a scientist

for Loving : measuring in great spoonfuls

whatever the dosages may be. Take it down

in one great gulp, swig it back, right from this

stolen bottle. Walk to the hilltop, high and drunk.

-

I have a lizard friend who knows reptilian ways;

he sports a moustache made of rodeo money and

speaks the languages of rodeo clowns. Rides horses

into church on Sunday, breaks a sweat, and sits right down.