I’m sitting alone in a restaurant in Santiago, Chile. Today I wandered down to the Museum of Visual Art and pondered the unknowable for an hour or so. And then I walked through the park and looked at all the pretty young people sunning themselves on the lawn amongst the shadows of the trees and of the monuments.

High above the snow is still on the mountains but the river is raging with that which has already surrendered to the heat.

A moment ago my new pal Meg reminded me of the ravages of age. I felt suddenly thankful for the life that I have had and was reminded also of a quote from Henry Miller …

which goes something like this

‘I am so thoroughly healthy and empty. No dreams, no desires. I am like the luscious deceptive fruit which hangs on the Californian trees. One more ray of sun and I will be rotten‘

And here I go again.

Continuing the habit (is it a bad habit? I’m not sure) of stealing other people’s ideas and tinkering with them a little to make them sound like my own …. I do so again, this time taking the lead from Stella who writes (I think) of hunger and imagination.

Just a whisper

Just a word

These little bits of you

I’ve heard

Your little hint

Of perfume sweet

A glimpse of lace

Or satin sheet

My little thoughts

Of you in sight

Just little dreams

Of you at night

Sipping on

Your special brew

And tasting

Little bits of you

To continue with a pattern …

Another poem from Cyranny caught my attention and hence drew a response. I repeat that response here, hopefully without the need for further explanation.

*****

Tell me lies

And hypnotise me

As we catch our breath

Let’s hold the mood

When we were rude

And shared our little death

Let’s pretend

It will not end

That we will not be seen

That we will stay

And hide away

To be what we have been

We’ll fib. We’ll fake

A wall we’ll make

Around our precious sin

A web we’ll weave

Of make believe

To hide our secrets in

This time from Stella who has some troubles sleeping sometimes and whose thoughts (I am sure she won’t mind me telling you) drift occasionally into the erotic.

Crisp linen sheets and candlelight
Together we will lay
Together we will dream of night
But also dream of day
Another sunset we will share
The blanket of our skin
Together still at sunrise
When again we will we begin
I live a dream. I’m hypnotised
I start each day anew
I have no need of opiates
My only drug is you