Summer Rain

And then the breeze takes it all back: everything from the beginning till now, till the very end and you try to let it all go, you try, you try and you try and if you fail, try the moon, one last 13th time

 

I need to confess: when there should really be a knock at the door that separates truth from lies a stray breath runs around, round and round and round, all around and no one knocks

 

That, yes that – they make living sound very easy that way and you move on and on and on and when there is nothing on that blessed every other day of the year I want to say something really rude

 

Now could be the happiest moment in this present state: things the way they are now, with nothing else but stories of how the child inside is killed everywhere

 

A night of no poems once in some time comes a time to feel the darkness and to let the black smoke out of the chimneys of his heart that are invisible now 

 

There was nothing else if not a song, a sweet song celebrating the sweetest smoke with flutes and songs about birthdays

 

And in the end, summer rain settles the dust

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