CANTO 80 Dry wind scatters pellets

 

Dry wind scatters pellets of caterpillars on the dusty canvas roof.

Dry wind passes through the weave and seeks my body, I shall not escape it.

 

Dry wind tightens the soil that seedlings press against.

 

Dry wind finds me out I do not desire it I am wet with desire.

 

Dry wind draws the dew from grass that blanches and rasps.

 

Dry wind brushes my closed eyes my body sitting in pride.

 

Dry wind roars through the woods where leaves curl showing pale undersides.

 

Dry wind tosses the silk of inchworms that swallow the juice of trees, they make dry lace of leaves.

 

Dry wind hums in the light in the broad desert of my forehead and in the hanging worms they do not desire.

 

Dry wind whistles in my cells exposes my chromosomes the patterns I follow I do not desire though I am made for desire.

 

Dry wind whips this refugee blood runs with each step she takes the sand covers each step no matter what I desire.

 

Dry wind slows in the light if I do not desire and calms in the light that is here for all beings this I desire this calm light if I do not desire.