Friday, March 5, 2010

young and wild 
like on a night long past you can 
lean on me. 
caught beneath a bleeding dark
sky by a fierce humidity
i speak as a soul 
that had to keep still as a stone 
to hear what was sweet and true
so young and so wild
always slipping out of view
bartering under the searing sun 
i won some and lost some too
acquiesced a bit of some essential
for a glimpse of you. And
i survived months underwater 
i survived on salt 
I survived on the dry dirt 
of the fault lines and 
I survived and when I spoke 
I spoke through the rustle of
the high yellow grass. I said:
young and wild.
I wear the laurel wreath of 
my profession,
and it is made of pages 
of leaves 
containing all i have seen
honeycomb and 
purple morning glories
i am a deliriant,
young and wild 

camille claudel 1864-1943

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