i saw you in my mind's eye you were layed out on your final day whenever i hear this verse i have to think about rob and about his funeral and how i stood in line to see that handsome face once more but they had closed to coffin so we stood there in one long line in front of it and instead of seeing him once more i was only staring at the pattern of the wood you were so dear to me i kissed you as you lay and the only thing left to do was to touch the cold, polished wood that was shining like the body of a guitar || i remember the soft awakening on an early morning with the sun like a blanket upon her body: her face close to mine, resting on the pillow as if nothing had happened, the eyes calm and closed, mouth slightly opened, almost forming words so soft, so beautiful that the whole world comes shrinkinig down to those lips that were trembling tenderly while she was slowly waking up. and then the eyes open and her look meets me: it's bringing back everything: ungarded and giving away the disgust with my presence and she turns around and pulls the blanket over her head. loneliness hits me in the stomach and makes me sick. she falls asleep again || i wish this train would go to iowa where words grow in fields of wheat waving in the wind. the sun is raining down in the west in soft golden showers all over the horizon that blurs with the landscape into a curtain of light. it's so much harder to stand all the beauty without her than it is to stand the solitude. i can manage the solitude but i cannot manage the beauty of the world, the beauty of the music, the beauty of the words without her. they destroy so much more than the loneliness. it's like paula says: 'when god's here i stand in front of him, i can't move'. and god always comes with the beauty and beauty always comes with god - this unholy duality - and i'm paralyzed and motionless and they sneak into the cracks within me: wet wooden wedges, swelling and bursting me with an infinitely soft violence, a silent force. and the cold air comes whistling through the cracks. i've bound all your words around me and all your hugs and all your sympathy but it feels like it can't keep me from coming apart. i'm so cold. | no events worth any prose today, even fewer worth any poetry