My hands are filled with light.
I am able to touch objects and have
Them transform themselves from
My imagination into manifestations
Of radiance. Here a house
Rises from a small rabbit’s foot.
Here a road unrolls and stretches
Out from my desk all the way
To Atlanta. It is like magic.
It is like longing. It is like looking
At photographs and trying to make
Them blueprints for emotions.
There is no future in the past.
As we come closer to the moment
Veracity seems almost under our
Fingertips. The photograph is always
Less cluttered than the world.
I look at your photograph. I am happy
To be seeing you for a moment. My
Hands turn it over. There is white
Space, like snow, like this moment.