I look and look
Looking's a way of being: one becomes,
sometimes. a pair of eyes walking.
Walking wherever looking takes one.
The eyes
dig and burrow into the world.
They touch
fanfare, hawl, madrigal, clamar.
World and the past of it,
not only
visible present, soild and shadow
that looks at one looking.
And language? Rhythms
of echo and interruption?
That's
a way of breathing.
Breathing to sustain
looking,
walking and looking,
trough the world,
in it.
