It Was Terrible When A Single Conversation

Our Limbs Which Had Already Traveled Far Beyond Her World, Carrying The Click Of Distances In The Smooth, Untroubled Soles Of Their Shoes.

I Have Always Loved The Gaps, The Spaces Between Things, As Much As The Things. I Love Staring, Pondering, Mulling, Puttering. I Love The Times When Someone Or Something Is Late-there's That Rich Possibility Of Noticing More, In The Meantimepoetry Calls Us To Pause. There Is So Much We Overlook, While The Abundance Around Us Continues To Shimmer, On Its Own.

The Thousands Small Birds Of January In Their Smooth Soaring Cloud Finding The Trees.

Before You Know What Kindness Really Is You Must Lose Things, Feel The Future Dissolve In A Moment Like Salt In A Weakened Broth.

If Someday, In A Morning, You See You, In A Mirror Or The Dent Of A Spoon, And Wonder Where Is My Soul And Where Has It Gone, Remember This: Catch The Gaze Of A Woman On The Metro, Subway, Tram. Look At A Man. Seek And You Will Find You In The Silvered Space, A Flash Between Souls.