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Sport 28: Autumn 2002
A Book of Rains
A Book of Rains
Sheer weather, weather that can be felt
With the eyes, as snow-cover,
Selling spring, the first climax
Of the year.
Bending, turning, standing,
Walking with closed eyes,
The pendent half-moon
Pupil in her eye
Composes a path
That does not stop if not
Forever, her sense of patches
Of knowledge blasted away.
Where one would expect
Added red, or a hat
Of darkness, the line is traced
Like the trajectory of the blow
That was dealt. Having nothing
At its disposal
To not yield
To the provocation,
The time of dying itself
Cannot give itself
The other shore,
And the future that death gives
Is not yet time,
When his forsakenness
Draws near, under the force
Of the lips of the blow received.