wishing you the best possible christmas...

poem about reading a poem

i’m trying to understand

what you do with language,

why you make those turns -

how you move from this poetic

shifting gears, this hard

speech & how the voice changes.

it is a mystery. this is a mystery.

the way the phrase echoes

as if i’ve heard it before -

somewhen else, maybe

even beyond words & imbedded

in the body, a way of knowing,

the word bearing weight;

the glory of language & how

it shapes the world,

the way it shapes

my memory of the experience:

the reasons i thought that

i could even begin to understand

what lies beneath my reason,

the ebb & flow of speech –

promises, perhaps, possibilities & pauses

- holding it all in the palm of my mind,

grasping at each measured image

to connect each to a moment

we can share so we can discover

where the world divides,

where light divides from dark,

night from day, light

shining on or from the words

& yes, they are promises

but hold them lightly

don’t hold them too tightly

for they are too easily strangled.