November 9, 1971 - April 14, 2014
two years seems an eternity
You give me the poem when you sit at my side, and we talk. In dreams! Aren't dreams only the undercurrent of this river that arrives at dawn, filled with essences? Aren't they the time when we know, outside of time, the hidden heart of the earth?
Who's singing? The one who just a moment ago wept? Who's going to live now? We who were dead.
The paralytic gets up every day to walk, while the blind man stores up light forever.
That's why the hungry have bread, and why life leaves the loving hungry.
(Part One, XXIV), by Jaime Sabine (trans. Philip Levine)