return

when the door opens
and i may behold over

and over again this work
of heart with human hands

there are no more doubts
my eyes are led wherever

they seek conjunctions
whirlpools unspeakable

open wounds that must be
attended at the edges where

nothing becomes something
and then reverses

where life is more death
but death comes around to

this sudden moment
among the living

colors appear and disappear
with passing clouds

there on the horizon of bold moves
and right here

after the slightest touch
is how i belong

where darkness shines
as far as near

and the stone cries out
that asking too much

is better than asking
too little

March 2007