FLATULENCE

January 19th, The Hawk East Kitchen Window

Have I written of The Wind

around here?

Now as I compose

one knee up to hold My Book —

The Wind is The Breath

of My Experience

of The Choppy Seas

The Vibration of The Trees

— to write It

is to feel It —

welling up in Me

as I stand on one leg

— My Left —

to write

& on Both

to read what I have breathed