Sunday, September 28, 1997


planted pe'ulot, sprouting Torah true
like letters from a misfit land
stillness weaves you with them to me
a flash here, a mark there, electrifying
spreading like light down reverberating breath
whole of heart in the sparks

whispering from the past
calling toward the future
from some timeless time to come
sighing against the wind

making one ever present sound
from where ever you are
the question flies through it
do I remember you, you
I'm crazy, it's true
but I do
just because I do

your memory sticks to me worse than pink super glue
and I don't know what else to do
this isn't how poetry is supposed to go

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