The blue was more distant than the sky, beyond all depths, covering the bounds of the world. The sky, for me, was the stretch of pure brilliance crossing the blue, that cold coalescence beyond all color
I’ve never written, though I thought I wrote, never loved, though I thought I loved, never done anything but wait outside the closed door
The light fell from the sky in cataracts of pure transparency, in torrents of silence and immobility
Because he doesn’t know he carries within him a supreme elegance, I say it for him
I am worn out with desire
her skin’s as soft as that of certain fruits, you almost can’t grasp her
a heavenly injunction whose import was unknown
My body no longer wants the one who doesn’t love
He says he’s lonely, horribly lonely because of this love he feels for her. She says she’s lonely too. She doesn’t say why.
The air was blue, you could hold it in your hand. Blue.