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.