At daybreak, during those inchoate Moments before waking, I had embraced A woman, lying in a waving field of Spring grass, with so much wanting That when I sat up rubbing sleep From my eyes, I forgot everything – Where we were, how we met, even Who she was, except this residue of Desire that is still flaming my breath.

Notes: During these glorious, and gloriously empty, spring days, I have been seeing these verse dreams – crazy edifices of whole lines, whole stanzas, which are perhaps the echoes of poems I hadn’t written down. And since I am yet to devise a system to somehow bottle all these flickering flashes of fire-words, somehow press them into paper, so as to scorch it slightly with these ink tattoos, all that is left to do is to report the aftermaths.