amidst human text,
surely someone else has written
the words i need. i don't know
where they are
and can't imagine how ...
i cannot find them - seeking.
i will have to put them to language
for myself.

it is not
about the words; it is
the body yearning to express
its ineffable touch, given
and received through nuance, every
nuance, every
sense in

quiet reach towards heaven,
bone extended and sinewed,
stretching long beyond its function.

breathless in my own breath, i love
a few - i love
you and by extension, all being, even
in its most remote resemblance
of yours. if there is one soul,
all a part and put through the illusion of
apartness, living a bit here, declining
there, narrowing, expanding; you
manifest its surity, caress its
quiet perfection. bombastic, elastic, astonished
at your self

and no less astonishing to me. turning and
turning your gaze across dullness
to leave it shining. i will ask
nothing though, i ache to ask
that you stay, i am
too aware of my own
vanishing.