I want to be a poet of the dung hill
and
of the mountains,
yapping
reckless rhapsodies
and
stealing everything in the universe,
from
fly-specks to the fixed stars.
I
invoke the name of anything in creation
set
down with great reverence
but
without any particular purpose,
no
code but to be natural,
a
code that this complex world
has so long outgrown.
has so long outgrown.
I
sing in the frank fashion of the old barbarians
who supped and slept and spat and smacked
their
lips over the mead horn.
Tonight
I rigidly limit myself to the physical.
I
want to sing like a joyous elephant breaking
wind into song.
I want to sing
the unseemly tune of life.
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