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
What every other eye in this world
Is dying to
The eyes hear plenty.
But still, you have to close them now and then
And trust the air.