excerpt from Ginger
He was poking
into the underbush now
and reached across my head
for the small spiny twigs.
At that the phase
changed
and a sensuous trembling
hung in the air,
as when a bee is about
to descend
on blossoming clover,
and I
felt myself being pulled
as by a line
from the invisible
other side
to enter goathood,
deeper than sight.
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