He has been one of my favourite poets for more than half my life. I always keep a book of poems on my desk, next to my rocks. Do you sometimes read something and wish you had written it yourself?
Poem written in the street on a rainy evening
Everything I lost was found again.
I tasted wine in my mouth.
My heart was like a firefly; it moved
Through the darkest objects laughing
There were many reasons why this was happening
But I never stopped to think about them.
I could have said it was your face,
Could have said I'd drunk something idiotic,
But no one reason was sufficient,
No one reason was relevant;
My joy gobbled up by dull surroundings
But there was enough of it.
A feast was spread; a world
Was suddenly made edible.
And there was forever to taste it.
Poem written in the street on a rainy evening
Everything I lost was found again.
I tasted wine in my mouth.
My heart was like a firefly; it moved
Through the darkest objects laughing
There were many reasons why this was happening
But I never stopped to think about them.
I could have said it was your face,
Could have said I'd drunk something idiotic,
But no one reason was sufficient,
No one reason was relevant;
My joy gobbled up by dull surroundings
But there was enough of it.
A feast was spread; a world
Was suddenly made edible.
And there was forever to taste it.
I love the poems largely because I hear them being read in your voice. Big 'yo' for upping the in-touch-keeping!
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