Of all of us I was the one who went
to the four corners of language but
I donít take any pride in that.
I did it, I think, by accident
because it was the closest I came to something
to believe in, although I have always believed
in music and, much later, painting, and that,
I think, because of the quiet of galleries and the people
I met who said yes to looking and thinking
about looking, like my friend
from years ago, we wrote to each other,
but lately not for a while. In one of her letters
she said what do we care, we have
the universe Ė no we havenít,
that was a lie, and once we lay on the floor
together and that was okay,
we had important things to discuss.
When she left I fed memory with a plate of bones.