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Buoy the population of the soul
Toward their destination before they drown
~ Robert Pinsky
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helma object publisher


Friday, 14. June 2002

Everywhere - Mark Doty


I thought I'd lost you. But you said I'm imbued

in the fabric of things, the way that wax lost from batik shapes the pattern where the dye won't take I make the space around you,

as so allow you shape. And always you'll feel the traces of that wax soaked far into the weave: the air around your gestures,

the silence after you speak. That's me, that slight wind between your hand and what you're reaching for, chair and paper, book or cup:

that close, where I am: between where breath ends, air starts




Big Book Of Poetry

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