by way of my timid desires.
Gradually intensified by its need
of horizons, it creates the world.
I kneel. The earth lifts itself
like a wafer to my mouth. I rise then
like some rooted thing into its own
appetite. The world has chosen teeth.
I gnaw the songs of birds, chew
the light from flowers and leaves.
I scratch through dirt to gulp
the secret meat of worms.
Hungry still, I devour my own
mouth–the tender lips
give way to a long smile
that eats the tongue behind it.
Only teeth remain. Let them
grind themselves to dust
and disperse as luminous seed
into a universe yearning
for a new source of wonder:
Light defines some far horizon.
From the chapbook The Clever Man's Forest