And, to my ear, the most beautiful, heartbreaking image of all:

There were owls so asleep
one could die of old age in their dreams.
(p.20)

Totem’s idiom is vital, erotic. It is born of infinity and being. Language itself

emerged: in the Flesh of the Fruit.
I spoke tongues against your breathlessness…

To be alive I had to praise, to praise I had to
learn to speak.
(p.15)