The poem makes you as you make the poem

"I will remember your small room, the feel of you, the light in the window, your records, your books, our morning coffee, our noons, our nights, our bodies spilled together, sleeping, the tiny flowing currents, immediate and forever. Your leg, my leg, your arm, my arm, your smile and the warmth of you who made me laugh again."

It reminds me of the people who dressed like Michael Jackson to attend Michael Jackson’s funeral.

I love your silences, they are like mine. You are the only being before whom I am not distressed by my own silences. You have a vehement silence, one feels it is charged with essences, it is a strangely alive silence, like a trap open over a well, from which one can hear the secret murmur of the earth itself.

| Anaïs Nin

If we were not so single-minded about keeping our lives moving, and for once could do nothing, perhaps a huge silence might interrupt this sadness of never understanding ourselves.

| Pablo Neruda

“People generally see what they look for, and hear what they listen for.”

we are but bodies in the hands of others or ourselves, cared for and not, by others or ourselves

One of my earliest memories is getting hit in the face by a book.