tiptoed dreams and their whys: they
are nearer to us to you to me these
lovetangled ephemera sub-
conscioned into day, brought up
to an interactive tea-pretation
The above is another possible response to Rukeyser’s Song, in a mood quite unlike the earlier one:
The world is full of loss; bring, wind, my love, my home is where we make our meeting-place, and love whatever I shall touch and read within that face. Lift, wind, my exile from my eyes; peace to look, life to listen and confess, freedom to find to find to find that nakedness.