Look at this beautiful poem Sandra Simonds wrote (lucky me!)


A Poem for Nick Piombino

I pretend to love what I cannot
pretend to
do. The maze in the poor man's throat
was multiplying like a wild
cell. Any given situation
has its own set of premises but these ones keep
changing so it's impossible
to base
your conclusions on any one specific set
of terms.
the mathematicians know not to look
at the equations directly
in the eye
this is the finite logic of dreams
he says "my dream of the sea is no worse
than my dream of the earth"