Come sleep against my sleep, in this narrow bed intended for a prisoner or an ascetic, some warm part of you always in my cold radius, the distance between us as small as that the wind traverses between two reeds of grass and as large as that between the moon and its ruffled reflection in the bay.

Note: Written during Alison Balsom's superb (and free - O, how I love thee, New York) performance, on the trumpet, of Manuel de Falla's song "Nana" (Spanish for "lullaby") last evening, as part of the "Free for All" concert series at The Town Hall. Also if you are in New York the next two Sundays, you must go to the next two concerts, as I would: the complete set of Brahms's "Sonatas for violin and piano", as well as Bach's "Well-Tempered Klavier" will be performed!

That you are small and compact Like a thought I can hold In the palm of my mind certainly Adds to your appeal,

As does your continual mystery That I run against my tongue Like the word "heliotrope", name Of a fragnant unseen flower.

Yet it is in the hours between Speech that the three worded Phrase uncoils its infant fingers, Yet unamed, and yet growing into

This new life, we now call "ours"

Note: She said read this play, giving him Thornton Wilder's "Our Town"; she said the letter he demaned is written in the guise of marginalia in those pages. She said this is how we shall fashion our town, at the crossroads of paragraphs, in the traffic of books exchanged.