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.