There is an urge to read moreinto everything. Outsidewe saw you reading. We thoughtyou were reading two books,but it was the same one.
You were wearing hats to shadethe single sentence, you.
Earth was the subject matter:how to walk and how to fallwhen you do, and how moving it can beto stay put.
Let the world funnel in every wayaround youâin every wayyou can imagine. In every way that is open. In every way;even to fail.
Love is a traveler,it is tempting to say that.Love tempts us to say so much.We should say those things. [End Page 225]
Should and love are words we distrust;but we should say those things.
Say you fear. You both do.This plays into you, but you are not that.
No one exactly knowshow much you talkto each other;it is much less and much morethan suspected.
There is an urge to read moreinto everything. We admit it isour own urge; so itâs notwhat you were reading, or working on,but how it felt in that dry heat,on that cement porch: a taste on the tonguescent in the air, and too much light.And what else? Everything, yes;but not everything, only the what of what might be.
And more,only more to add. [End Page 226]
Thomas Devaney is the author of The Picture that Remains with photographer Will Brown (Print Center of Philadelphia), A Series of Small Boxes(Fish Drum), The American Pragmatist Fell in Love(Banshee Press), and a nonfiction book, Letters to Ernesto Neto(Germ Folios). He teaches at Haverford College and is the editor of ONandOn-Screen, an e-journal featuring poems and videos.