When the blackberries hangswollen in the woods, in the bramblesnobody owns, I spendall day among the highbranches, reachingmy ripped arms, thinkingof nothing, crammingthe black honey of summerinto my mouth; all day my bodyaccepts what it is. In the darkcreeks that run by there isthis thick paw of my life darting amongthe black bells, the leaves; there isthis happy tongue.