Between things that never
existed, inside nightmares
that last lifetimes but never
come into being, among sensations
that remain nameless, and intuitions
that never take to words,
deep in the heart of a planet,
or a pebble—
there is a conversation.
Before the wind obtained
a body to breathe on, before the heart
of the human body
put on my clothes,
before the alarm clock went off,
there was a conversation
not whittled into words.
Before the evolution of the tongue
(following the evolution of the saxophone).
Here I stand on a round ball with my heart raining—
sunshine spilling out of my chest
from a center that I cannot touch.
(but unbroken from the source).
Inside I place the tablet
of your parents
and their parents,
tracing all the way back
to the original explosion—
the simple proof.
The heart which formed
xxxthe endless ocean
of the urge to exist.
xxxxxxxxx(without which nothing would exist)
was willing to become known
conversations with the source that sent you—