ALL ABOUT THE WIND Comments

After rain. There are shallows.
I grope through a forest.
Colored birds breed.
White sound penetrates the sky.
A stream gives stones an enema.
The sphincters of the pebbles quiver.
Anquised quivering of the pebbles' flesh.
When the wind trembles
the sun turns inside out and overflows the fields:
Now the eye can travel a thousand leagues in a twinkling.
The wind whispers in my ear,
"You know, if I just had the drugs that light does,
I could make the ocean fit into a buttercup!"
Wind, sweet fool!
You with your generous, two-timing heart!
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