the rest of the poem

I'm too alone in the world, yet not alone enough

to make each hour holy.

I'm too small in the world, yet not small enough

to be simply in your presence, like a thing -

just as it is.

I want to know my own will

and to move with it.

And I want, in the hushed moments

when the nameless draws near,

to be among the wise ones -

or alone.

I want to mirror your immensity.

I never want to be too weak or too old

to bear the heavy, lurching image of you.

I want to unfold.

Let no place in me hold itself closed,

for where I am closed, I am false.

I want to stay clear in your sight.

I would describe myself

like a landscape I've studied

at length, in detail;

like a word I'm coming to understand;

like a pitcher I pour from at mealtime;

like my mother's face;

like a ship that carried me

when the waters raged.

Poem after poem, I encounter the weight of his bare desires and simply spoken images.