18 August 2008

the night rain quadrille


I'd gotten in bed, embroiled in some avid description of a Bosnian novelist who has been mugged by history, feeling the ache for sleep, really honestly on the point of turning out my reading lamp and turning over, just in case, but knowing it wasn't gonna be so. Suddenly there was the first of what's turned out to be a cotillion of small, ernest bursts of rain. It got me back up. The short downpours, followed by the twangy afterdrips, and then back to just the rush of the waterfall out my open window, as I made some tea. I checked the radar. Just a bunch of tiny red blips floating over my house in a vast expanse of no weather....

I think of you every single day. Maybe not every single hour, but many times a day. I'm at the perfect edge of a knife that never dulls, Noble One, wanting to visit you and fall altogether apart / wanting to be you instead. I remember you signing yourself humble to truth alone, and etching it on my synapses, all of them, just so. It still astonishes me those who do not fathom the extent of my gratitude, my being full of an ocean and emptier than space, my intention to share every atom and still not be able to find the seam to rip for it. The little rain dancers gallop on me and I mutter I love you, the hassle of insomniac dropping off and leaving no trace. Yes. I love you. They don't make a word for the extent.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.