( by: Mark Svenvold... courtesy of Leni De Castro... Thanks Cous....)
Their hands have found each other
The impossibility of bodies
They gather what they can
Here, and here, in the tangled turn
In the soft, suede taper of the neck
In desire, they are wise
In the body's over flowing reticence
Nothing is ever enough is the joke
That keeps giving itself to us
The air, calm, the trees, lime colored
The hands, like tourists without visas
Camera without film, busily, purposely
Taking picture, after picture.... after picture...
