nedful things

Of what use then are hands untouching? Yet
Ready with reverent fingers they long
To hold the outline of a face,  and with
Gentlest touch trace the lines there drawn
  Join its story of joy and sorrow
  And write a name on its tomorrow.

Of what use then are eyes unseeing? Which
Beholding not the image of desire
Instead through a shadowed view envision
That vessel which holds the means of fire
  The lessons of a heart engulfed they learn
  The cause of its flame and its call to burn

Of what use then are these things to love? That
Fitfully tosses dreams and walks the floor
In anguish it calls its beloved's name
In hope waits for a hand upon the door
  Refusing the emptiness of its bed
  Seeks now only a place to lay its head

While pretzeled in a chair with
cummings you came to me,
you do that (constantly)
you sneak up on my mind
and disguise yourself as an idea

again

(as if it were yours) wrap-
ped yourself around my wandering
so that I was always ahead
or behind you in thoughts

(and were they yours or mine?
it gets so confusing when we're this way)

together

it was ee with a limb tucked under
and just when I (having calculated
that my life had only average
expectations) was as numb as
my leg was becoming

I'm all pins and needles

again