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Caught in the Swamp
- Wesleyan University Press
- Chapter
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141 It Is Morning Too late Hard fish Too late to be morning Too early . . . . . early love The tree played into by 4 birds The hornet . . . . . even though the nest is shaking Where did they go? caught in the swamp High is the dark clouds and the harbor and the egg as the antelope frightens us through the swampy harbor. We burn our food, and the egg has a seal of abandon in its blueness. Which are we humming at last? It is the running of the shiny antelope we smell, not love. Is it the bed? after the rain The soap is wet from the storm and then it is lost . . . . . . . . . I am peeking out. I feel a chill across the forehead ...