If I had a different life to live this would be the foolish one-- to root, hog, sleep and procreate. Always across my mud hole I see the farmer waiting for my size to grow, as he leans close up upon his rake. I do not even want to be the farmer nor the wife whose pig is well done, but the stranger passing by out of curiosity and anxious to get away from the smell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SAVING WAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH WE CAN'T WRITE OURSELVES INTO ETERNAL LIFE by DAVID IGNATOW SELF-ANALYSIS by DAVID IGNATOW A LITTLE GIRL'S PRAYER by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: GODWIN JAMES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN 'DESIGNING A CLOAK TO CLOAK HIS DESIGNS' YOU WRESTED FROM OBLIVION by MARIANNE MOORE |