Michael Robbins

From Karpos

I glance at a twig, I take the twig to my bed, I tell it of manly love.

I tell my twig of the migratory song of the goose.
I tell it of the new form of companionship I propose in its name.
And now it seems to me I walked with my twig upon the brown earth
a thousand years ago, and a thousand thousand, before men were,
or women. It seems to me that a twig might sup with the president of
the United States,
and become president in its turn. And I will drop my twig in the gutter,
for I know other twigs in their hour will fall into my uncharted path
forever.

And I have said I am a brother to twigs, and I say I belong to their
nation,
and together we embrace the hay …