Will

I don’t think of the individual
as an island,
isolated, distant,
subject only to the constraints
of their innermost geography
and even if it were so
then the sea would still serve
as a bridge between.

The sea might be a measure
of our humanity.
It might be the capacity of our hearts
when they are integrated
and they are always integrated,
the myopia of ego aside.

Whenever I think about you,
you are there
not as a figment
but fully realized
and unmistakably alive.
It is impossible to feel alone
in your presence
and yet I still find
that I miss you;
not because you are absent
but because I want
to hold you closer
then my inexperience allows.

When I dream
it is not only my dreams
that I witness
but a celebration
of everything that we are
and ever will be.
There surely exists
distinctions between us
but distance is relative.

If not for the euphemism that poetry affords
I might say things like “I love you.”
“I think of you so often
that it fills me to the point of percussion.”
“I want to bury your face
between my restless thighs and feel
your beautiful mouth
fluttering against me in recitation
and afterwards
I want to taste myself on your tongue
so that I might better understand you.”
If not for the lucidity that poetry affords
my throat and heart
would be as raw and pure
as parchment
and my illiterate thoughts
would be reduced
to moans of exclamation.
Measure me not only
by my instincts
but by my indomitable will
to create.

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