I insist

I want to wear a painter's shirt
live in the woods
hear the night birds
and when the dawn comes
I want my body in sleeping to know
the shifting of night into day,
even before the slightest light.
Pre-dawn, coffee's heavy flutter
into a white mug. I want to take such long walks.
I want to chop and carve and burn
wood, and build and etch and burrow.
I want to rest in trees, I want to drink
a hobbit's drink, drink it in with a monk's
pursed lips, my blood, however--open, flowing, drunk.
I want to stay up all night, with you,
in a painter's shirt, in the woods, with the
night birds, the dew, the trees, the drink,
our blood, forgetting itself