May Swenson
 

Question

Body my house
my horse my hound
what will I do
when you are fallen

Where will I sleep
How will I ride
What will I hunt

Where can I go
without my mount
all eager and quick
How will I know
in thicket ahead
is danger or treasure
when Body my good
bright dog is dead

How will it be
to lie in the sky
without roof or door
and wind for an eye

With cloud for shift
how will I hide?

Ugh, I can't stand May Swenson. She's like the confessional movement meets William Blake.

i like that poem. goodnight.

:eyesp:

Okay.