Drinking would be too powerful, too clear;
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head
And being swept along is not enough.
The vast heaven is open! the mysteries lie dead
Let loose the wind in the fields
And when you lie down in the valley, you can smell
Something-you don’t know what-has disappeared;
The sap is champagne and goes straight to your head…
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
A ghost, though invisible, still is like a place
***Who knew Rimbaud and Rilke would sound so good, cobbled together? We are doing centos over at Dverse today. This is my offering, which is a mix of these two–both some of my favorite poets.