When I said I believed in lightness,
I wasn’t kidding. Over and over, I return –
not to escapism or fantasy or ostrich necks–
but to dissolving solidity, breaking up the world’s fixity.
My holidays – as if a wild angel came reeling
from the wings and slammed into despair –
as simple as reckless laughter, unplanned, unbidden
or a piece of hot bread with butter and a shard of salt.
The way of the heart – to be renewed every day,
no matter how many times the heart breaks.
Knowing that everything can be transformed
into something else (see Ovid); that winged
leaps – words in whorls of motion, fugitive
emotion — lead to a poem, and person, that seeks freedom.