Every so often, we here at Arete like to write about things we think are hot. Today seems an appropriate day to offer a Staff Selection of Hot Poetry.

                        We sit and talk,
quietly, with long lapses of silence
and I am aware of the stream
which has no language, coursing
beneath the quiet heaven of
your eyes

                      which has no speech; to
go to bed with you, to pass beyond
the moment of meeting, while the
currents float still in mid-air, to
fall—
with you from the brink, before
the crash—

                      to seize the moment.

William Carlos Williams, Paterson 1:ii