To the Tadpoles

Paddies are crowded
with fastened lips, soon
you will hatch the plots.

Keep your own counsel
from the terraces;
talk up a downpour.

Repeat after me
We are the chorus!
We are the applause!

Hold on, what was that?
(To pause is knowing
when to make a splash.)

The mass is more than
a clearing of throats
surrounded by pines.

When distance is gapped
seek your selves in panes.
Give nothing away.

page 195