Listen to me as one listens to the rain, not attentive, not distracted, light footsteps, thin drizzle, water that is air, air that is time, The day is still leaving the night has yet to arrive, figurations of mist at the turn of the corner, figurations of time at the bend in this pause, listen to me as one listens to the rain, without listening, hear what I say with eyes open inward, asleep with all five senses awake, it’s raining, light footsteps, a murmur of syllables,
air and water, words with no weight: what we are and are, the days and years, this moment, weightless time and heavy sorrow, listen to me as one listens to the rain, wet asphalt is shining, steam rises and walks away, night unfolds and looks at me, you are you and your body of steam, you and your face of night, you and your hair, unhurried lightning, you cross the street and enter my forehead, footsteps of water across my eyes, listen to me as one listens to the rain.
Your presence, Is a dance without a hymn, A ballad without a bend, a winter without an end: where I curl up by the fogged glasses to forget the warmth, sun offered me once. The bright of your eyes are the shy autumn and mysterious fall.
Your absence, Is a sigh without despair, A rain without the air, A summer with ominous ends: My smile sometimes pretends. For time becomes a path, and journey is measure in memories. I become a monk and a thief, looking for peace, settling for grief.
float sublimely, for there is no ground beneath the toes today. The white verandah delves a sight as you move untouched eclipsed by warm fingertips. the water shall soon forget itself, it has no memory of your existence.
White voids and bright wine. melanchony’s cocktail : a melodious blur beneath a bright but dusty chandelier, We have nothing to break our silence escaped through the white windows.
we retire, listening to the winds and sipping some wine, rehearsing our exits from one-another, our exits from ourselves, our exits from our pasts.