ocr: Durendal L - - - Whose only kpouledge is the edge Of drinking, Of prying, spging the sharp- nickel shine OF desire in the saviours ege and splaging it jeueled out onto the grass, sueet beneath an evening shy. Ilong to smile. And with my smiling to rise, sunlike up into the evening air, rich with wind and seed I long to be Flung, seedlong to the wind, that my children would root in the dark soil and spill, plag, splay Forth their souls to the violet, tasting shy as we, he and I, tumble through the luxurious stalks Of emerald grass; OfFering and Feasting, Freeing the pomegranate and grapes Of my ...
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