Extended and always uncentered which is why it scares everyone but him When an insistent finger stabs him with a you he only stares uncomprehendingly a stranger to the pronominal itch and then pointing anywhere to the tree the cloud the flower distant or near expostulates in manic delight me me me a spendthrift spate of consciousness And thus the child puts on his being as the dark world in its necessity puts on the dawn by turning toward it The child trembling in halflight giving himself away becomes sun's favor the choice of what is not willed a being freeborn and intricate like the day. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PICCADILLY CIRCUS AT NIGHT: STREETWALKERS by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE FALL OF RICHMOND [APRIL, 1865] by HERMAN MELVILLE HOPE AND FEAR by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE THE WIRES by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE OLD MAID by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SACRIFICE SELF-COMPENSATED by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES CAGNES; ON THE RIVIERA by MATHILDE BLIND |