“Our erotics witnesses to a passio essendi that is marked by a primal porosity to what exceeds all determination and finally our own self-determination.” IU 421f.

Work-in-progress

I was dead with grief

for years. You came and ripped my

heart in two. Now you

are part of me. One,

two. Now I count myself blessed

by your cutting glance

inviting me to

the dance, to hold you tight or

loose so we can breathe

as one or two. Love

is not one thing but a verb

I will learn to do.

I can count on you.