Tuesday, February 27, 2007
ripened by the sun. The dirt
grows everything. Mangy
bug-eaten leaves of cabbage
nearly blue around a strong root.
The sunflowers, yellow pollen,
the dust of the sun, liquid
running crystal drops. Peaches
which were hard green fuzz balls
become possibly the most gorgeous
objects of the harvest -- crimson
and spotted gold, merging
in the most vital colors of life.
Oh fever and savor of fruit.
After days of constipation,
the old man, in the bed
with cancer, has shat his pants
but he feels better. As I offer
him one of his sun-ripened peaches,
the harvest begins in earnest.
Oh fever and savor of flesh.
Flesh and fruit each have a season.
Aug. 21, 77