Trapped in strings of
rain, like the
blind bard's dulcimer.
He can't tell me
the name of his hands.
Rain like this dings
ting jing leng beng
I watch
chasing
Then I see between
the strings.
The brightness.
The no object
some light
that throws open iris fists
so that I wonder
and know
how long I have been
squinting
into life half closed
half dark
eyelashes out in front.
oct 30, 08
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