Noise

I wish I could make love to all, all, all of your minds. They and I would be like the wind and we’d wait for each other to knock the doors down.

I wish I could drink you in without hurting your skin or exposing your vulnerable marrow. I wish I knew why bees are small and humans are big; why boys scream and bears roar; why my voice shakes when I am unsure. Forget its meaning, they tell me. There is no other way to be, no other way to go.

I wish I could be your eyes with love and lust so intertwined that together we lose sight of passion.

You are a universal beauty to me, so obvious, so lost in visions.

The treasures you bring are not sin but Truth, and she unveiled herself to you on that dismal midnight hill. You, with your tape recorder and guitar. You, with your expression and history. You, with your mighty telescope and tiny tears, deliver the fire to us so we never need feel the burning flesh ourselves.

“I just want silence,” you said, “so I can break it. We are so blessed with noise.”