The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.

(I measure time by how a body sways.)

And I walked, I walked through the light air; I moved with the morning.

The visible exhausts me. I am dissolved in shadow.

In this place of light: he dares to live Who stops being a bird, yet beats his wings Against the immense immeasurable emptiness of things.

The poet: would rather eat a heart than a hambone.

And what a congress of stinks!- Roots ripe as old bait, Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich, Leaf mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks, Nothing would give up life: Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.