Presence

The poetry of presence, the first fact
without which no other, monster mouth foams
at the pink of dawn, asking what it is,
how it could be and where it is going

urge, not only irresistible, but
unrepentable, something of inside,
not content to rule only there, but lusts
to break out, shift shapes , take to open sea

my presence in which I dwell eludes …