As a long-lived animal who has seen more snows
than any of the creatures whose small footprints
stitch the ground down into a drunken white quilt
and make meetings that lie to time itself---
I'm certain to make more than love
out of spring.
I've seen thirty springs and made
love and child but my mind is made
to want more than memories,
more than more-to-remember.
It wants to be the recurring dream
of another dreamer.
The mind wants so much more than the body.
The desires of the body are in the world.
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