Wednesday, May 8, 2013

almost without surface



Almost Without Surface
by Kay Ryan 
Sometimes before
going to sleep a person
senses the give
behind the last given, 
almost physically,
like the strain
of plush against
a skin. 
The person imagines
a fig or peach,
perhaps a woman or
a deep constellation:
some fathomless
fruit. 
But we are each
that, while we live,
however much
we resist: almost
without surface, barely
contained, 
but crazy
as clouds compounding
each other, refusing
to rain.



3 comments:

  1. O.M.G. I really like this poem (and image). I have read it more than once....

    ReplyDelete

Welcome. If you would like to say something, rest assured that I will respond in my self, even if I do not respond in word.