From a strange land comes a person
engendering much puzzlement.
On the steps I greet the stranger
who has been invited, not sent.

To begin again, a person
might well tend a vegetable plot.
If nothing grows, in retrospect
what you dreamt you did, you did not.

My brief outline of a person
repressing more than it reveals,
not by choice but necessity
-words proved to be incorporeal.

So when did I become a person
the bees desire so much to sting?
Marked out in so subtle a way
you just can't rely on a thing.