Beauty Greek, you are my God
The feeling of a health, a taste
Of atmosphere to original lips,
A Whitman in a blade of grass.
I dream my self in dew of grass,
My words from body rebound
To lips they have lost taste of,
Smell like hospital behind ears.
I am a river of yesterday’s rain,
Wind water that flowed in hills.
My earth is fire of girl memory
It’s breath , whiff of sea’s wind.
I have forgotten half of a body
Running on half of its memory.
Give back my other half, Apollo,
My atmosphere back to a touch,
To taste dew in a blade of grass
To hear a rustle of wedding silk
(After Walt Whitman’s Song of Myself in Leaves of Grass)