Before the marrying time
we were particulate.
We heeded not nearness nor
kisses nor curve of knee nor
storied blue-eyed telegraphy nor
noble Native American lineage
but distant signals
of self-description and homage
to gingerly embroidered photos.
Without touch bathed one another
in redolent sparks wrung from
molten interior of sentences
traced along the fuse of a book
we taught each other to read:
Less how you look,
more how you see.
Before the marrying time
conversations were wingless
without principle without
the certainty of the subjective,
before my verbness surged
directly into your objects’ objective
participle of being.
After the marrying time
the inextricable signals of our
coauthored co-conjured
improbable illustrations
wage against long dark night
with articulating blended-blur
of ever-presenting delight.
for Ann
2 July 2011