This morning I've been sitting with some Alberto Rios poems and getting lost in the language:
The curious lavender attentions to itself of the jacaranda
Stopped me, as through the leaves and small avenues
In late summer I made my way in love toward you.
The trees flowering was an intimacy I had not earned,
I can barely breathe when language like that is before me. I wish I could wear it as perfume, put it on my wrists so all day I could stop to smell it pulsing along the vein there.
I am so ready for more life.