Poets Eleven Poem

Between the page with the heart
and the mind wrestling upon it,

and the ear which later will receive
those limbs of light as perfect harmony,

there's a stillness whose volume speaks
worlds of words defiant of measure,

treasures of the unsayable, secrets
of the ever-beginning enchantment

and the never-ending gathering
at the lips of the kiss of the poem.

From All That's Left by Jack Hirschman. Copyright © 2008 by Jack Hirschman. Used by permission of City Lights Publishers. All rights reserved.