Even a grave cannot keep out the earth forever;
like a plastic bag cannot separate the trash
from the receptacle. eventually, as rivers we all join
the ocean, where we have originated.
But I am tired of learning these etudes
without understanding music—
Silences resound as though remembering a winter
that goes dearly, drearily hauling us forwards.
I compose many symphonies for your mind,
stopping and starting again, mimicking
the stars’ quiet / ude With my emptiness,
like a child, I knit you a drop
of water in the center of your palm
to drink from. On a cellular level,
in a single instant that never occurs
again, we come together as
a distant starfield, seen from so far out
that it forms a single entity of light:
galaxies come together / at will.
Like two of these atoms, we nudge close
in the wintertime; aware of space
we can’t traverse, aware of the awareness
that we can’t traverse it, it becomes infinity, hushed
by the light of the automatic doorway, lighting
though there’s no one at the steps.