The rock above
The rock below
The sweetest nut has the hardest shell
my tears at leaving you
The Mongolian mountain dew
The flowing Scottish spring
No water can wash away my tears at leaving you
Guggenheim
creation spirals
upwards through clouds
quiet dignity interrupted
the banality of existence
the question not to ask
is
how many fail?
how many fall?
the old man
the old man who lives down the street and we say the man just came to see you and he shakes his head and says who’s the man and we shout YOU THE MAN and he laughs and laughs and is happy for a while
My mum would have killed me
My mum would have killed me
if I’d come home with an earring
So I got myself a tiny tattoo
on the inside
of my lip
Thank you
thank you for hugging me
but do I know you
the taste of your tongue
the taste of your tongue
– tingles –
when you have been drinking peppermint tea
That’s how the story ended
“I love you,” she said. “April Fool.”
one day we will walk
one day we will walk
hand in hand between the stars
until then
the fields and the forest
every year we said there would be snow
every year we said there would be snow
and every year there was
a covering of the gravelled sins
until the year the clouds rolled in the water
and hiding was finally an end
simonsalento 