Black Field I

~ for Dottie and Conrad

I have been thinking about you
As a kind of goo
For the mind to have visions
That are only of the mind
Or like that sliver
We enter when we write
And it is as though
Ideas had to come from some place
And there are words for those places
Or rather those places are
A kind of fundamental syntax
For the world and we need only
Pluck them from the air
We need only pluck them
From under your shallowest
Surface to say anything we want
Is it true you are the future in fact
The thinnest future we have
When we attend each other
The mind of each other as a delay
How patiently we must
Await each one each other's