Dear Michael Robins —

You evince immediate calm —
your incisive wit, grass sharp eyes,
surreptitious wishes
(or were those kisses?)
— they were o yes they were.
You dazzle & do so at an angle.
The best way to see a star
is to look at that corner
where it meets the dark;
the best way to see yourself
is to hear yourself
when no one else is desiring.
You split in two the formal feeling;
your corpus callosum lit up
like Chicago at midnight, synthesizing
every fit fright with its waking reflection.
Your face sketched with drizzle
& a bluejay’s shadow,
a song in every register.
You unfold the field with silences,
unfold the silences with years,
around the empty of tree stuck folds
of every & nothing at all
& find a dreaming word for everyone.