Old-one the dog stretches stiff-legged,
soon he’ll be underground. Spring’s first fat bee
buzzes yellow over the new grass and dead leaves
What’s this little brown insect walking zigzag
Over the sunny white page of Su Tung-P’O‘s Poem?
Fly away, tiny mite, even your life is tender —
I lift the book and blow you into the dazzling
Allen Ginsberg 4/20/73