The Repetion of Rain - new writing from this morning

Sunday, 11 February 2018, Burgos, Spain

Rain rain and more rain

all daylong and all nightlong—

infinite repetition of drops,

drops, drops, repetition after

repetition—repeatedly falls heavily

and seeps through goretex and wool

and seeps through skin and skull

into my interior chamber in steady

repetition after repetition of drip,

drip, drip to coalesce into dark pools

onto the bone floor of my interior chamber

and soak through the porous bone

floor of my interior chamber down,

down, deep down into memory

and desire to dampen the dark stains

and dry ash and leave my sodden soul 

wet and dark to seep through slowly 

into the darkness of echo and damp

chaos of what I consider myself to be

then that that I consider myself

to be liquefies and in repetition after

repetition drips, drips, drips slowly

away into a drain that drains into

the deep receiving well of emptiness

that receives what really is not real

and transforms it into the emptiness

that already fills and contours my soul

and my interior chamber that lacks

even the substance of skull and skin

and wool and goretex that the

slow steady cold rain of April falls onto

heavily and soaks into all the world 

that has drained into that well

into which all the world is disappearing

in repetition after repetition after repetition.