! ! The Necessity Of Luxury

and what at some other time I’d call a luxury – or others would – it’s not, it’s – oh – rightness - used rightly... like now, aslant in the reclining chair, the patio door open just enough to bring air into the room, March air which feels like the most precious commodity, substance, gift, grace, where, how, could I say; and the book of poetry held loosely, glanced at occasionally; some phrases, some words, of Tom’s growing timelessly, flowering, seeding a generosity of new poems too formless to call mine but the warmth of his heart makes mine to expand, and boundless now; the mind too, boundless; a boundlessness of poetry; then, now, always; so that in this moment, heart, mind, poetry, boundless, there’s complete liberation; beyond luxury, beyond necessity and poems may or may not be, for being’s all…