Loafe beside me regarding the grass, loose the stop from your own neck, perhaps not terms, perhaps not music or rhyme i would like, maybe not custom or lecture, not really the very best, just the lull i prefer, the hum of the valved sound.
We mind just how as we lay this type of clear summer time early morning, the manner in which you settled your mind athwart my sides and carefully turn’d over upon me personally, And parted the top from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my foot.
Swiftly arose and distribute beneath them, And mossy scabs of the worm fence, heap’d stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth, And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own, And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own, And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers, And that a kelson of the creation is love, And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields, And brown ants in the little wells.
