From Tasting Every Horizon

‘The poem as light forming over ice’

-Gabriel Adams

‘Space is not the setting (real or logical) in which things are arranged, but the means whereby the position of things becomes possible.’

-Maurice Merleau-Ponty

IX

At this moment, we huddled in the shadows—a wet leaf gleamed on your ear, and we gathered the sky into our hands, between air and stone; when our breath joined, a garden of dreams formed.

X

Curved landscape of the lightdrop, ephemeral in spring’s knell; feeling it—a touch found between the space of a brushstroke, endless spirit of atmosphere, like mist.