Once upon a time, I was one of those whose body seemed to end at his neck. I lived almost entirely in my head. Intellect was everything.
And then I made contact with a host of previously foreign sensations – things I’d previously merely viewed. The exchange, for the most part, was marvelous. Let’s start with the feel of my lover’s skin to my touch. Or her lips on mine.
In time, she pointed me toward yoga, which really opened my inner vision. Much of the process I describe in my novel Ashram, starting with the response to the direction, “Touch your toes.”
The poems of my newest collection, Foreign Exchange, continue to probe the universe of surfaces – as well as much that lurks underneath.