Beat.

One thousand, blinking, blind, blue voices

Speaking pitter-patter—laughing splatters of

Blind, blue voices—bleeding from just under the

Cool skin of the window panes, drops of drinkable death from a dark body—a world

Drops of sparkling songs from a dissolving heaven, twirled

Drops of drops, and just maybe drops—okay

One thousand, blinking, blind blue drops

Whispering wisps of dreaming sky

Angelic as they come streaming by

In the thing’s arms I’d like to die

Smiling in its sweet, its icy sigh

Because it’s something like a deity

And though it may never love me, at least it’s a swear

That something else is out there

This singing being in the air

That warms me with its chilly stare

As I read paper pages in golden light

The world bright and right, with a colorful bite

A thousand words sliding down the window panes

I don’t know what they say

But they can’t go away

Because they’re delicious like prayers

Spectral and rare

Mysterious, momentary—godly keys

A faceless mother for me

Translations of spirits, gifting

My eyes and ears, in their dissatisfaction, discontent

Disappointment with sunlight and seeing

I’m inexplicably happy, being

Here

As it rains

And it rains, rains, rains

With the percussion of precipitation

The silver palpations

The weightless sensations

The thousand, blinking, blind, blue voices

Praising, blazing, glazed with days

Spent in “the above”

And they murmur,

You. Are. Here.

And my very human fear

Is suddenly dear

The very queer quacks of songs we make

They are for Rain’s sake

Yes, we’re here—stuck on this island sphere

Only with our angels, these

Divine quiet voices