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THE SENSE SUPREME

I stand naked on the main streetson the side streetsin the wheat fieldsin the rice paddies.I embrace my voluntary chains.I fill your eyes and your earsI fill your different mouthswith the motions of my flesh. No hair of God grows from my skin. No page of logic turns in my head.My bones, my blood, my bodyall are sensitive, the world sensitive;everything that touches me I touch.When I sit on the lap of the sunmy uninhibited pores open,drool and fill the soil,coat the concrete;my sweat captures a breezeand my body cools .When the night cocoonsmy body my skinerects with goosefleshmy body hair shiversin webs woven of windmoon and stars.When steel and glass skyscrapersfill my eyes from all directionsmy neck bends and my arms moveto absurdly embrace them.When the fields are so full and so ripe pouring over wood and wire fencesI bend my knees fill my handswith exhausted soil. No hair of God grows from my skin. No page of logic turns in my head.My bones, my blood, my bodyall are sensitive, the world sensitive;everything that touches me I touch.When beautiful childrenmelt on the burning streets of war my whole body shakes with rage;my solemn tearsserve to wreaththeir hopscotch chalk drawings.