All right, well, I'm going to ask you to endure three more,
one is called "Song: The Organic Years."
Now, I'm going to read one called "Constant Feelings."
Some acts I could never not forthrightly,
not by flanking you, accomplish, like that bridge
the poet tried to put in this poem to be put in his pocket.
Another became a bearskin, already shed.
I wanted to harp on that bridge.
Of course, to be that bluebottle or cornflower,
the three leaves of the sassafras.
Naturally, I hope the coat of my arms
would, when I reached for you, spin off revealing
the new skin of a purer animal.
I think I shall always love you.
When I enter your skin I'm closer to bear, bridge, bush
and that tree which granting the lovers shade will
be my veins round yours.
Many loves which are lives, but do not depend on lives.