“ A man is indeed a city, and for the poet there are no ideas but in things. ”
We sit and talk,quietly, with long lapses of silenceand I am aware of the streamthat has no language, coursingbeneath the quiet heaven ofyour eyeswhich has no speech
~ William Carlos Williams
You lethargic, waiting upon me,waiting for the fire and Iattendant upon you, shaken by your beautyShaken by your beauty Shaken.
Your thighs are appletrees. Your knees are a southern breeze.
It is at the edge of the petal that love waits
