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April 20, 2014
How quiet you come to me after my soft asking for touch, born again in the heavy morning under a night of sharp dreams fighting a tangle of frayed lines hunting for a matrix, you bid me speak, though words traced electrical shadows through mysterious channels, your words beneath words' fabric spoke in silence, the expansive breath of love, that entity, the poet's muse, an artist's beckoning, goading hearts of steel dissolve through forms only angels may shape for mystery's rapture when souls across the waters merge, and the tendering silence rears, we hold each other, strong, ferocious, tender, one.