to the graveyard and to lay away all, the head, the
feet, the hands, all: I know there is something leftover they can not put away.
people eat the clover over my graveand if any yellow
hair or any blue smoke of flowers is good enough to grow
over melet the dirty-fisted children of the shantypeople pick these flowers.
too much and the people who have too little and I choseone of the two and I have told no man why.