Out on a limb and frantically sawing
The saw teeth grow dull and at last
Wear smooth
Leaving us here, still throned in the air
Like the sage in the basket
And the one in the jar
Either branch or tree will fall
Or we will both drop, sleeping
A heavenly meal for the animal saints…
hear PW reading the rest of this and more @ https://diva.sfsu.edu/bundles/191220/49819/download
