Tigers are laughing in this wild wind:
we live in no tame time.
What though these fields
that blue sky above the mountains
reason mercy justice truth
and the whole panjandrum
whoosh down one dawn a balloon unstrung too soon --
-- by all the laughing gods,
we live in no tame time:
and in spite of all abstractionists, such as death
-- my live love,
your beauty and your kisses,
the delicate feel of your ankles,
the laughter of your breasts against my hands –
these utter an irrefutable koan:
the sound of no bombs falling.