I Am The School of Quietude

I like light and grasshoppers, leaves and coffee cups,
snow and silent bones. I enjoy long walks
through the trees, perhaps even
sprouting leaves from my fingertips
to stroke the reader
as if with a feather, as if the feather
fluttered with the flutter of hundreds of birds,
and our skins, growing
(like quarreling vines resigning to the inevitability of symbiosis)
into one. I like patting my pet
(the reader) and, perhaps,
splicing up sentences
into stanzas with
unjarring, enjambed
line-breaks. I am (my
line-length is)
melodramatic-
ly dwindling.