for Wendell Berry
Such is meditation in deep country -
the careful parsing by the mouth of
fine white bones from equally white flesh,
the Mind both tongue and teeth discerning spur,
spitting into the hand what can
poke and choke, even kill a man,
such is stacked/displayed on the edge
of a paper plate sogged with grease,
the bottom breaking through -
'Careful of the bones, children'
learning not to bestially cram and devour,
advice for later living.
Such has served me well though I have often
choked when once is too much and enough.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem