Poem after poem I write poetry
day after day, after night and startled
I clench and I whisper and again the tumult      

Poem by poem I write the disquiet
the translucent honesty of the wing, the harmony
which desires the verse in the body of light

Poem by poem I touch, assume
the body of the work, fondling the language
in a slow and inseparable indeterminable pleasure

I dream, past symbol, past metaphor
past syntax
Word after word, after word

after word…