A tenderness sweeps past, aiming for someone,
By God I feel the air. I open my shirt—
Blind man on University Avenue
Baring his chest—
Hafez comes to mind:
“Why not become the one
Who lives with a full moon in each eye
That is always saying,
With that sweet moon
Language
What every other eye in this world
Is dying to
Hear?”
**
The eyes hear plenty.
But still, you have to close them now and then
And trust the air.
Planet of the Blind 