There's Rain Falling There's rain falling again as all the month it tries to wash away this love which cannot be assuaged. As if a flood could cleanse my heart of you. There's an unbreakable strain that runs through our lives since that first word spoken in trepidation, that first kiss taken gladly in a single bed. When you have left and all this world's between us, something of me will have gone with you, something of you will tear silently through me, as every morning I wake and softly mouth your name.
Those Lovers Those who are not us revolve out there somewhere stratospheric, closer for being planetary. Being equilateral we are two sides of a triangle arising from the base. What pleasure awaits when the apex is reached. This image, of course, amounts to nothing. Ciphers encircle us. There is nothing but ever widening emptiness, like all those seas that must be crossed before we once again have kissed.
The Book of Sand Between his beginning and my ending we pressed you like a flower in the pages of our Book of Sand. Every time I open you I never read a line I've read before. We closed and opened you again. We never found you twice that night as you rewrote yourself, our flower forever opening. We pressed and hid you in between two leaves, to always find you by opening any page. And in the morning somewhere a cockerel crowed, somewhere in your eye our love was flaming as he, sleeping saintly beside you spread between us beside me in the stillness, sang you inside him.