At once I knew, small boy
September 17, 2010
When I Spoke With The Shoemaker
September 20, 2010

You casing carrion,
Folded over into twelves!
Half-digested leaven
Thieved from darkened nook;
Trod-plot schemes along
An empty highway,
Gloating stick and staff and
Mule.
Congregate in shanties,
Sheep skin wafting whispers
By and by;
Ever while the hoary faction
Seeps into the secret
Cranny of the road—-
All your copulations
Yielding the human
God.

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