* * *
so many hearts run towards you
that you could be
and most generously
gild my misery with your sunshine
look - I pray to you again
for tenderness
mighty one
who else will so believe in you to whom will you be so necessary as to me
neediest one
stripped of splendor like a January tree
burning with shame
inside the chestnut body of a tree
hear me out
I beg for tenderness
deliver unto me salty drops of grace extravagant
arms lips' warmth
* * *
in my barbaric tongue
flowers are called flowers
and about air I say air
and stepping on the pavement bricks
with my heels I tap in
brick brick brick
and I say stone so softly
as if stone were velvet
and I bury my face in your neck
as if a cat's warm fur grew there
and I love
my barbaric tongue
and say: I love
one more memory
I have just written a word
I am older by a word
by two
by three
by a poem
older - what does it mean older
within the abstraction called history
I have been assigned a narrow segment
from here - to there
I'm growing
within the abstraction called economy I was
ordered to live
within the abstraction called time -
I'm drifting
straying
and drifting
at the Egyptian wing
of the Metropolitan Museum
stone smiles with woman's lips