Mantis

Tiny green praying mantis on my thumb
I might just have taken for the Buddha,
except that they and I were much too shy,
sheathed in such stuff as dressed our births

the deepest inklings may scarcely stir sound,
eyade ink’s urge to recapitulate,
yet scratch  grooves in which we from then on flow,
flimsy forays of feelings that we be

we are, are not, in…