Sometimes, when I am alone,
when I'm cold and at my most quiet,
I feel the faintest undulating—
an inscrutable deep sea pressure
shivering through my chest cavity
and I realize—
there are these frequencies in me
so deep
they barely move—
but whose
momentum can never be stopped. They go
so slowly
and carry
such protracted
bits of information,
such distant
and enduring longing
that I just know—
you'd have to be
standing pretty far away from me
on a perfect clear day
very far away from today
to receive even
one single second of it.
