Michael McClure 

 


   february morning

        LARRY, A SONG SPARROW WARBLES BRIGHTLY
                 in the silver morning after the storm.
                         We enjoy the form,
                 the shape, the doorways, of the consciousness
                        that you explored as an astronaut.
                            I sit on your porches,
                        and hear your birds, and smell
                            your rain.  You have opened
                            A SENSORY BRIGHTNESS
                                that was not closed
                            but glowed and enlarged
                                  with pleasure.
                                      You have set
                                  what I feel and touch
                                       to a fresh strain.

                                   You "unmeasure"
                                       music and sense
                                          to be an
                                      OPENING ROSE,

                                         OPENING
                                            ROSE

                                   -- a rose untouched
                                            before