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)

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