How can a poet love lack of speech?
Speech that ponders all that is,
Speech that dreams of all that was?
How can a poet insult his thoughts
Kissing you as he does?
How can a poet possibly drop
Cloak, and crown, and care
Of words, and stop—
Only because
He saw you sexily there?
How can a poet be impressed
By silence—do you remember
The silence in your car?
How can a poet say nothing
To the poems and songs you are?
The world began as nothing—
Gathering to what it was.
Is subtraction ever happy?
Removing things intoxicates,
Moving towards what the beginning was.
The poet turns down
The light so there can be love. That’s all he really does.