The Man with the Blue Guitar XXVIII

I am a native in this world

And think in it as a native thinks,

Gesu, not native of a mind

Thinking the thoughts I call my own.

Native, a native in the world

And like a native think in it.

It could not be a mind, the wave

In which the watery grasses flow

And yet are fixed as a photograph.

The wind in which the dead leaves blow.

Here I inhale profounder strength

And as I am, I speak and move

And things are as I think they are

And say they are on the blue guitar.