four days in winter

Wednesday night

I do not have to touch you
to be touching you nor feel
your face to feel your face.
Yet sometimes touching you
I feel you not at all.

There seems to be so much
of you at times enough to fill
and spill across the room.
Other times I stretch in your
direction and draw back to me
great armfuls of nothing,
great handfuls of air.

-from "Moment To Moment 1973, 1974, 1975.