Let Birds

Eight deer on the slope

in the summer morning mist.

The night sky blue.

Me like a mare let out to pasture.

The Tao does not console me.

I was given the Way

in the milk of childhood.

Breathing its waking and sleeping.

But now there is no amazing smell

of sperm on my thighs,

no spreading it on my stomach

to show pleasure.

I will never give up longing.

I will let my hair stay long.

The rain proclaims these trees,

the trees tell of the sun.

Let birds, let birds.

Let leaf be passion.

Let jaw, let teeth, let tongue be

between us. Let joy.

Let entering. Let rage and calm join.

Let quail come.

Let winter impress you. Let spring.

Allow the lost ocean to wake in you.

Let the mare in the field

in the summer morning mist

make you whinny. Make you come

to the fence and whinny. Let birds.