The water hollowed the stone, the wind dispersed the water, the stone stopped the wind. Water and wind and stone.

                    The wind sculpted the stone,
                    the stone is a cup of water,
                    The water runs off and is wind.
                    Stone and wind and water.

                    The wind sings in its turnings,
                    the water murmurs as it goes,
                    the motionless stone is quiet.
                    Wind and water and stone.

                    One is the other and is neither:
                    among their empty names
                    they pass and disappear,
                    water and stone and wind. 

              With eyes closed
              you light up within
              you are blind stone
              Night after night I carve you
              with eyes closed
              you are frank stone
              We have become enormous
              just knowing each other
              with eyes closed

Sun throughout the day, cold throughout the sun. Nobody on the streets. Parked parks. Still no snow but wind, wind, a red tree still burns in the chilled air. Talking to it, I talk to you. I am in a room abandoned by language. You are in another identical room, or we both are on a street your glance has depopulated. The world imperceptibly comes apart. Memory decayed beneath our feet. I am stopped in the middle of this unwritten line.