We are just atoms, we are almost nothing;
whoever is responsible here made us out of the wild open.
In morning light your bare arms glow
like my heart before the surgeon cut it open.
8:45: packed into the subway again – a wild-eyed
man is singing with window and throat wide open.
I like the sky at dawn, but adore the galaxy.
It is the edge of your robe. See how gently it opens.
Go on, stand in the sun that traveled
96 million miles to blow your flowers open.