your poem
Monday, December 19th, 2005deeply i have felt love, madly
beyond any caress,
your eyes have their expressiveness:
your most secret hopes are things
which you cannot express -
desires or thoughts, perhaps for me,
or that which i cannot see
because they are too lovely
your passionate look, carefully, will unhinge me
though i have slipped myself into your dreams,
you wander always on your own paths,
plan by plan, the path of least resistance -
myself, as in the past
or future wandered here and there
(traveling silently, tirelessly)
to your sweet present
so if your path be to dance towards me, i and
my tea will meet your lips.
very generously, sweetly,
as when the words of this poet touched
your heart, nearly everywhere being silent;
nothing which we were, or are, was in your eyes
the scent of your soft neck: whose shoulder
my thoughts and desires linger on,
holding fingers and the glance of your eyes
(i do not know what it is about you, that wish
and our lives; only that something in me needs
the soul of your face to warm the future)
my journal, not even my poems,
have such smooth thoughts
. . . . . . . . .
- with a little help from e.e. cummings 
