Well, I want to read another, which
is part of the request series.
And I want to read--
this is one every time I see it, I
want to read it with even more of a drawl
than the other poems.
I want to read it so slowly.
As to me, this is like another ritual in reading.
To identify a poem that just grows out of itself,
I think of like one of those things on 4th of July
we used to have in you light them they call them snakes.
Then I don't know what now.
They just come out.
It just keeps spinning out.
If only I could let things occur to me,
so validly and centrally.
If there's no interference, then some real lead
would come into my life.
And each thing would suggest the next thing.
I would like to try to read this as if the trance is
making the next thing happen.
It won't be labored.
It's called with kit age 7 at the beach.
We were going to the highest dune.
From there to gaze and come down.
The ocean was performing.
We contributed our climb.
Out of the storm, those waves leapfrogged forward and came.
What should our trip mean?
Kit waited for me to decide.
Faced with that world.
What would you tell your child?
That was an absolute best the froth blew far and cold.
I knew Kitt was afraid the way she held onto my hand.
How far could you swim, daddy, in such a storm?
As far as was needed, I said.
And as I talked, I swam.