Poetics

The tongue moves through the eye: adjusts
the tender image to the taste buds and teeth.
It tries the landscape and sips patient
river water. The exact gaze

opens up in the voice of light and rises
toward the same tongue. Every rare thing
in the retina is a note from the soul
that heals and renews us.

Tongue and eye in all things are the bird
that rises in the light of my balcony,
a descent in the air that touches us.

It’s the song of the unknown
that suddenly becomes a vision.
The bilingual eye moves through the mouth.