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2006-09-18 - 5:51 p.m.


Not five minutes ago
while mowing the lawn
I thought about writing this poem to you.
It has now gotten too dark to see
so I stand alone in the cool grass
eating a peach beneath a quiet poplar tree which
in the morning may shake its leaves
if a breeze should come along, or maybe
later tonight if it rains.
Who can know?
It might even shake if the earth tremors

I eat the peach as I think these things
and think of you.
I bite through the skin into the gushing flesh.
Do you know what I am thinking?

I wonder, Shiva, if you will destroy me
or if I will destroy you
or if the world will destroy us both together.
Who can know? It is sth, beyond knowing.
Perhaps I should concern myself only with devouring this peach
so soft, and fuzzy, and juicy sweet.



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