So something I think about a lot is the Big Bang,
just like casually.
[LAUGHTER]
And I was thinking about that when
I wrote this poem, about how after the Big Bang everything
was expanding, kind of moving apart in that motion.
And that's where this started.
"Matter in Retreat."
The stars drift away from one another.
Tonight, as every moment, you and I breathing so thoughtless.
A living, we make as we are made to.
As I make another promise to myself
to try to mean more to you, to call out
across a great distance.
But I am not loud enough.
I suspect I have not enough protest in me.
The arc of my throat awaits a tenderness or brutality.
And what are we to one another, but a means to a meaning
we haven't yet discovered, two points
of light on the inky dark sky, two paper boats on a black lake
floating further away.
Every day I awake, I roll over, I hide my head.
We get smaller.
Our living, it's pathetic.
I mean, it makes you sad.