There are people out there
in love
though I may not know them
my thoughts circulate among them
as birds do, unseen,
often unheard,
and who would understand
the poetry of birds
if not the ones out there;
in love?

Listening. This loneliness helps me
to listen, to lie back
in my quiet cradle and not dream,

I am simply here, my eyes open,
not asleep.
To stay awake is to give out
breath like a baby.

I know my failure, I absolutely
do the empty page
Black stars, the words I didn't write,
the things I didn't ...