the book You, becoming inside of me I feel foundation’s pulse, something birthing It wants its way yet allows deformation, the emerging form can be ignored— Don’t. At some point, a heartbeat I must not subvert what’s growing here Be strange, be weird allow it space Naming is not needed yet Note its breath its pace Self-standing Independent but not separate, it-what-is See the new bud unfurling it also has a life yet is not separate this paradox this wonder
So looking forward to your next book's emergence x
The next one is very different--41 poems about raising my disabled son. The poems are done; I'm looking for a publisher.