nature poem? maybe?

plump and full of itself

master of its own circular tracings

the hummingbird sings-

"I have left the light

of industry's door

for industry

in the light of the garden.

I have left the hot, spacious

air of the golden cradle

for the garden:

cradle of clay

of earth

I have left my beloved

whose swayings are the blur

of procreation, whose words

are the lovely poems of insects'

sweet voices, for the voice of the garden

flowers divulging secrets of milk, of gold

I have left you

early morning, spider silk and dew

I have left you
pneumatic heart of troubled sleep

I have left you

pantheon of birdlike spirits

mirrors hiding

in the valleys of the pond

in the heat of the air

I have left you

for the bewildering voice of the soil

for the colorful song of the shadows

for the many overflowing breasts

of the garden."