My mind, it seems, is only A sequence of events, Or wave of probability With characteristic bents. I'm sure I @3feel@1 atomic With moleculish wings To wander with at random And elude all grasping things. I frequently ascend Upon a milkweed down, Or aerate my mental state By resting on your frown. Sometimes my mind is anchored With an immortal hold Upon the warm green wonder Of grass and sepal fold. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE NOTHING I by HAYDEN CARRUTH SONGS FOR TWO SEASONS: 1. AFTER GRAVE ILLNESS by CAROL FROST DOWN BY THE CARIB SEA: 5. THE DANCING GIRL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON |