There once was a world

Without rain, without the golden
thread, my obsession for you, for
rain, for what I cannot ever have
like a lock of your hair, a piece
of silk scented from your body
marks me a wanderer forever —
silences my words, and what’s left
of all my obsessions, all my memories
of my fall — will outrun me, and my secret
garden made of fear and silence
will die, untroubled as time

(From my notebook. For the poet Frank Stanford, 1948-1978)

photo credits
(where not otherwise credited)

“Eye headlight” / photograph by TravisPhotoWorks on Shutterstock
“Empty” (footer) / photo & design done by GP using Canva