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If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you!
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Askers embody themselves in me and I am embodied in them, I project my hat, sit shame-faced, and beg.
You are not guilty to me, nor stale nor discarded, I see through the broadcloth and gingham whether or no, And am around, tenacious, acquisitive, tireless, and cannot be shaken away.




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I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your boot-soles.


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