If your eyes were not the color of the moon, of a day full of clay, and work, and fire, if even held-in you did not move in agile grace like the air, if you were not an amber week ... because love cannot always fly without resting, our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea: our kisses head back home where they belong ... Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example the night is shattered, and the blue stars shiver in the distance ... Home