Through the open window of the stars unknown winds blow in.
Songs dwell, incomprehensible, in the rude and beautiful language of your need.
Irresistible words scatter themselves all around you.
Your sweet rough trouble contacts me, amazes me.
The elements of your character:
Birds, winter, bare trees, a branch for me to sit in, and light, so much light.
Aching, shuddering light.
And of course, miles and miles of night.
All these rivers criss cross your shape.
The information of the stars seeks you out.
Possessed by this dark and light, you turn in time like night and day.
Waiting in your blood, fitfull songs kick and stir among your future events.
Somehow everything manages to go right on working
Beneath all the curious disappointments in your eyes.
But now things long abandoned wish to be born.
Listen to the sea in your veins.
Accumulate laughter and forgiveness.
Time explains herself in births.
The stars sing in their lightning.
Crowds of words and melodies, fragments of your secrets,
Sweeps and curls of blue rain from your unpunctuated sky,
All go crackling out into the world like a letter from your dreams.
The meaning is not invisible, it is mysterious.
Like music rising from the chimney of a piano.
Like the noisy sentences of Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson
Making love in your lustful, poetic demanding heart…