A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature
I know the spring is there.
I walk over it and feel its pull.
Pure, cold, searching for some place
to rest. A pool. A river that would
darken and warm it into new life.
You have always been there.
Your hands that have been so many places,
now, resting in mine, tell me tales.
Your heart split open. All that.
I have my favorite cafés in Hell
and in Heaven. Let us turn off
all the lights and get into bed.
Feel for each other, for the other
inside the other that melds grief with love.
Copyright 2020 Doug Anderson