"Though the wave of words is forever
upon us, yet our depth is forever silent." ~Kahlil Gilbran

Poet, there's an artist
who works the counter
at the coffee shop
at the edge of the universe

All he draws are women
and all the women he draws
are working stages
in clubs
in varies degrees
of undress.

"You should draw windows," I tell him
"And then draw what you see
beyond the window."

Art
is a search of rooms.

Art is an inventory.

Art is pointing out the pieces,
and letting the viewer … or the reader … put together the pieces.

~

Find your place in the universe
and make a stand.

Live an honest, thoughtful life
even if those around you
don't understand.

~

Tell me
about slowness
in the night.

Tell me
about places
where poets
can think

We live
in language.

Let it rule us … even more than law.

~

I like my books
scattered
on the counter
beside my computer.

They seem
to have an order … even though there is
no order.

A book of painting

Three books on the lives of Poets

A cup of coffee … and a candle

And thoughts of undressing you
in a motel room,
and seeing your clothing
scattered
on the floor
like books
scattered
in the most beautiful library
imaginable.

~
Scattered images
for photographs

Scattered images
for scenes
in pornographic movies

Scattered images
flashing
in my mind …
Is it wrong
to harbor such intimate
images of you, poet?

(pause)

The night
holds its breath
and listens /

The night
is just a spectator /


How quickly
time passes

and how mysteriously

Where
does a moment go
after we've seen it?

Is there another universe
existing
just a moment
behind us?

Is there another universe
existing
just a moment
ahead?

~

I should close.

I will write again soon.

… I look forward
to hearing from you again

~SAS~