If you want my apartment, sleep in it but let's have a clear understanding: the books are still free agents.

If the rocking chair's arms surround you they can also let you go, they can shape the air like a body.

I don't want your rent, I want a radiance of attention like the candle's flame when we eat,

I mean a kind of awe attending the spaces between us--- Not a roof but a field of stars.

Am putting this poem in the Big Book because it reminded me of a time when my attention wasn't like "the candle's flame when we eat"