This one is called "Feeling With my Hands."
This again takes another view of the subject.
"Will this poem be able to think and breathe and have sex?
Will it be able to lift a finger to call a waiter for the menu?
Will it have hopes of a future life?
Will it have friends among other poems?
Oh yes, will it be able to write other poems?
I do not want it to rest on its merits,
I want others to look through it to see me breathing and taking
food and embracing my wife telling her
she has lovely teeth.
This poem should have an erection
and everywhere should say, hello and be a friend
and not hesitate to tell other poems what it thinks
about them, be pleasant but be truthful, be happy
but fear not death.
Here it is and I am still talking and feeling
with my hands."