Found Lost

Bordeaux, After The War

Before I had any words my body
was throbbing, the mind of my body throbbed
with such nameless States of mixed hope and fear,
of need and greed, of pleasure's ruddy pomp

that were the chaos of my becoming,
as I emerged from myself to myself
and found the first slippery grip of words
and let it go, this again and again

because radically open, I was 
radically at risk, no words for each,
but only blundering wondering reach
for myself near enough and not quite here

the splendor of the misery of how
I found myself lost in the midst of me