I’m here for the burst of rains that score trails across
the silences, ‘til my bowels give out or some more
spiritual need intercedes, flowering my insides: heels
on the street, the memory of her skin; any minute
I expect a vision pressed against the glass, looking in.
I’m in the mood to conjure up, everything; cracks
against the sky, lightning strikes; strive to understand,
like the first man to rise from the protozoan slime.
All things can tempt me from my bliss – colours, for instance;
the spectred trees, hands to the sky, on the other side
of the rainbow; temporal worlds, apparitions like stone
peripherals, half real; love, politics…Anything