The Ghost Is Still Breathing Poem by gregory collins

You might prefer to pray
like a branch of the willows
with its humanity dying
and getting into fights at the roots

and i think i hear the creaking of the earth
as my soul, who craves advice,
took myself without paying much attention
to questions no one could answer

about how inside my heart you are the breasts of the wind
which i wish to tickle like rafts on the sky's tide
and not before this day have i been full of daring
to untie the lace of beauty and never grow old