[from Cole Swensen's The Book of a Hundred Hands, 2005]
The Hand Thinks
There's a hand that thinks, that lies inside, that lines the hand that
and it thinks: "While tying a knot, you can utterly forget, you can
(can be thinking of something else at the time)
that muscles have a memory all their own
that lives again a braided time
what without you lives. The life of fingers
mutiny that doesn't even bother.                    The hand, ever prior
avatar of architecture: archlessly, each one
is a frame.
There's an empty frame on the wall         and the hand is the sky
that opens the wall.
The Book of a Hundred Hands (Kuhl House Poets)