The hole in the wall
is wider than the eye of the iris
is wider than the tongue in the grass
is wider than the promise of everything
The hole in the wall
exhuding dark liquids
can not be rain
it can not be the blood of the sky
it only opens to the right voice
The hole in the wall of the hole
at evening time when the sun
has parked itself deep inside the volcano
spreads many contagions
like wildfire
or kisses down your spine
It is in the iris that I know you
it is in the cup from which we drink
that spills over each and every time
that I shall meet you again
scattered across many different lands
