winter is a solipsist
it can't believe that spring exists
that's a song I tried to start
but never could complete
until now
I've feel the downpour, the flash flood, the end of a dry spell
up to my hips in the warm mud where no flowers grew
but now they do
Bas Jan Ader went to sea
searching for the mystery
the page on which I wrote that part
was crumpled in defeat (until now)
I feel the ice break, the dam burst, the end of a dry spell
and as the fields slake an old thirst and growth starts anew
I tip my head back and drink well, the pen and the inkwell
are full of you
I feel the pull of you
the fount of you
it's on account of you