This poem is called "Tao," which is the way in Taoism.
Those of you who know anything about Oriental philosophy.
"Tao."
I take my leave of the hats and gloves
and indecisions, the manuals for internal combustion,
the teaspoons and insomnia.
And my days under fetid glass.
The sun declares daylight.
My head is bedazzled with garnets.
I am scholar to feathered texts of flight.
The incantations of oaks with their barbaric flags
and strange manifestos.
The savage tribes of sunflowers.
I devour rivers with my celebrated teeth.
I ascend the magnetic smoke of bonfires.
I visit the acrobatic moon and in the entrails of the winds
I divine the authentic history of passion.
My lungs, lights, the pearls of my testicles.
The pulsing glove of my bowel.
The courteous flexure of knee and elbow enter the galaxies.
I matriculate in holy inertia.