Names unknown are we already know, a doctor of brain breathing his air and his breath becomes air. A poet of long ago would call down his breath to become air. Doctor is a poet of now, breathing our air. He had been a name unknown till the dark night when a cough became a fear, a fear of loss of breath.
Names unknown are we already know
but forget names at the tongue’s end.
tongues reach an end of their breath
the beginning of our poems in throat
the throat of poems is end of breath
the air breath becomes in this room
reader you make time , while you be,
the steps to your eternity , mine too.
Loss of breath is a fear in night. A dark night is a cricket shouting existence.A cricket breaths our air to let us know it exists. Night is its breath that becomes air.