in praise of

my favorite things are all containers.
the silence that defines the bell's ringing
wine glasses half drunk
the way a glance can contain
information I could list forever
encyclopedias of what-you-mean
and still not decode

my favorite things are all containers
or things that cannot be contained:
weather patterns, heartbeats,
redwoods, blackberry vines, ravens,
the motion of the full moon east to west,
what runs happily riot amongst us
and causes irises to bloom in darkness
all manner of sweet things in the eye of the flower.

my favorite things are all maps
of places I cannot describe
but where I now live

no longer a tourist in happiness, it seems.

my favorite things are shifting singularities;
a welcome word, open arms, an ongoing and unlimited horizon
embodied in embraces--

each smile fireflies in the June darkness.