Stars tied to breath
don't have to be there
when you look.
No more than drops
of blood on ginkgo
leaves & inconsequential
eggs & frog spittle
clinging to damp grass.
Sure, I've seen doubts
clustered like peacock
eyes flash green fire.
So what?
When days are strung together,
the hourglass fills
with worm's dirt.
What do you take
the brain for? I know
how hard you work
in that dark place, but
I can't be tied down
to shadows of men
in trenches you won't
forget. You look at
a mulberry leaf
like a silkworm does, with all your insides,
but please don't ask me to be responsible
-- Yusef Komunyakaa, Neon Vernacular
(click on cover to be directed to amazon page)
