Dear Poetry,
The cup of gratitude is always full and washes away other projections. It is always full. When you talk to the dead, you spend a lot of time examining doubt. Am I my skin or the failure of my skin? I'm looking down a deep well at what I believe is the surface of water but is really emptiness. I have trouble with domestic life. This island is where you get one caress, one caress only. Use it well. A poem is like a peck on the cheek usually until hunger for another's mouth on yours swallows all sense of decency of taste. We are the accident of nature disobeying its own laws. What you show up for every day that no one sees: That is who you are. I have as most do an appetite towards what harms. I think it is suffering that means I love or that I love means I must know suffering. That code keeps us. Here is the secret: When you see me I am loving you. When you read to me I am loving you. When I read you I am loving you. When you are in the room with me I am unconditionally loving you. I am clear channel to open heart seeing you as you step onto the stage, into the shape of the word and what carried you there. I am in there. We are on that field. It is all the same path. Where there is poetry: There is this without condition. That is the bargain I made.
M
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