presence

you are making

ripples.

you, a small child

in my pond,

make

resonant wake

& wait until

I shiver.

there are things

we don't

want to be

(to some)

& i

could be

nothing.

i could be

a lonely

ripple

in the

sea of wheat

that is

your

hair.

between the

curves &

planes i

tremble within

you

your skull

&

its

thoughts.

couldn't find this one so i had to write it out:

"As though touching her

might make him known to himself,

as though his hand moving

over her body might find who

he is, as though he lay inside her, a country

his hand's traveling uncovered,

as though such a country arose

continually up out of her

to meet his hand's setting forth and setting forth.

And the places on her body have no names.

And she is what's immense about the night.

And their clothes on the floor are arranged

for forgetfulness."

[Li-Young Lee] from "Book of My Nights"

"and she is what's immense about the night"

wow.