As I write, each line reaches for memories

lost, fallen beyond the edge of the world:

kamarupa dwelling in infinity, fading

when my lines do not find them

and my words fail passion and desire.

Eons, lost pasts. Which of them

could dream my frail dream of this

verse? Which, thrown

across the fabric of time, could make

nothing everything?

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I sat all day in the corner

awaiting a call on the 'phone

but when it came through

the voice that I knew

was nowhere at all in the room

The nurse that called me much later

knew where I was travelling to

but she never heard

the call of the bird

that flew in my traveller's dream

The doctor gave me some drugs

to keep the malaria down

but the pills that I ...

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Between the wooden breakwaters

I sit on the flinty stones

to watch the grey sea

waves rattling the beach

That foaming water

that was once the horizon

where I sailed

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