It's really nice to be able to hear the sound of traffic
in the outdoors while I'm reading
and it's so quiet in here.
I've never experienced that before.
This is the first poem in my book, it's titled "Sounds."
"A man may read a poem to write a poem.
He may make love to find love.
He will climb a mountain to transcend a shadow.
He may forget the years to retrieve a day.
In the assembly of life's acts a man searches for his parts.
He walks in the rain to touch the veil of childhood.
He waits for the sky to break for a room to close.
He smiles at a stranger to let the unknown pass.
And when sleep eludes him it is not darkness that captures him,
it is the years at the window throwing light at his eyes.
It is the ascension of shadows dissolving from his frame.
It is love's ephemeral body trusting what is absent.
Then a man may write a poem to read a poem to her.
When she is finished listening her silence
will begin to drop it's sounds the way rain does not hurry
to cover all that is ground.
The way a horizon gradually recovers
from the passing of a train."