I took photos that evening, blurred as they were. As if the essence could be borne into the light beyond the threshhold. I listened to your music six thousand kilometres from home, rocked to sleep in the glow of the intercom, pre- and post-lingually. It rained outside without me knowing but the clouds broke suddenly unknowingly too, by the involuntary seism(powers). Glazed ceramics / pulse truth / white magnolias / deep time Will you hold the me who is adrift-in-the-sea? (later) Late night talking on the telephone. Rain. Neon reflections in the running gutters. I always had one foot out the door. A western wind bends the boughs Of a sapling.