held aloft by what blooms below, holes are naked—the bare an allure that incites our turning toward it just as the intimacy we offer to what holds us so
is naked—a concern buried in every desire to yield, but not what to bear conceals which in a hole is the way it hides what the abundance surrenders, the bearing forth of what will never let go, this coming along of the deathless instead of what supports us, holds us whole so we may bear down on the bare earth to hold forth
