George Oppen

The title poem from This In Which  (1965)


	In the small beauty of the forest
	The wild deer bedding down --
	That they are there!

			    Their eyes
	Effortless, the soft lips
	Nuzzle and the alien small teeth
	Tear at the grass

			    The roots of it
	Dangle from their mouths
	Scattering earth in the strange woods.
	They who are there.

			    Their paths
	Nibbled thru the fields, the leaves that shade them
	Hang in the distances
	Of sun

			    The small nouns
	Crying faith
	In this in which the wild deer
	Startle, and stare out.

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