rot Soma Whose woods these are I think I know They came here that I might deftly go Dancing upon the twigs and leaves With moths descending from the trees My eyes were shining like the moon You found me dancing there at noon My ribbon curls fell at stepping quakes By hand of god or witch or rake You sink to the earth and see me dance With centipedes and creeping ants Two creatures resting in the mud One of which has come undone My flesh is lovely, dark and deep Where are those promises we had to keep? Ants ceaseless forming lines that creep On skins and bones in bloodied heap 240201 what's it to you? who go blather from