And I'll finish with one poem, a poem called "Coming Back."
It has a companion poem called "Relationship,"
which uses the term "guttural lyric," which I use,
which actually is a section of this book
and is used in this poem.
"Coming Back"-- you try to dust off this ghostly complexion,
as if erasing a blackboard upon which the word "forever" had
been written.
It's no use.
I kept thinking the spotlight would cleanse me,
like water from a cliff.
I thought the hands I passed through
would be seen soiled and waving far behind.
It is difficult to find in the dingiest hallway
the moment that echoes purely the architect's design.
I knock on the door.
And how many eyes wander from the page,
as if in that faint unrecognizable sound,
the unexpected still lingers, love or death or simply
the apologetic stranger come to say goodbye?
It's just me, surprised at the ease of confession,
at its guttural lyric, at the faith
of the shadow with which I touch hands
in an exchange of dimensions.
You try to dust off this ghostly complexion, but all that's left
is the ghost.
And neither of us can give it up.
[APPLAUSE]