Upon Reading Horatio's "Drive"

                                                              some moments birth poetry.                                                                your soul is feminine, waiting for seed,                                                               bearing                                                               the long line of cars, of people, trees, houses,                                                               the static and the moving, -                                                               waiting to otherwise bear.                                                                a natural process more than natural.                                                               natus, Latin,                                                                a sign in the sky,                                                               on a door.                                                                our native tongue                                                               has long reach,                                                               picks the pockets of dead men,                                                               licks the corners of the coliseum,                                                               jams itself into the mouth                                                               of a woman pushing a cart,                                                               a man scribing in candlelight.                                                                then it scatters its own jargon,                                                               planting.                                                               it is more than eating and taking a shit,                                                               yet similar.                                                               someone, somewhere,                                                               may read this, or that,                                                               mine, or yours,                                                                and one of us may give it to them good.                                                                fokker, Dutch,                                                               to breed.                                                                as the coiner said,                                                               “bischops may fuck thair fill and be vnmaryit.”                                                               yea, we be fruitful,                                                                and multiply.