slow blanket
nuvole bianche
that village i painted once
a washed-down tapestry

and i guess it doesn't matter
that i can't see clearly behind the clouds
what are you trying to tell me
hell, are you there at all

i guess it's just
an old film playing again

hazy eyes,
not-warm-enough blanket
but the moon smiles

here there's so much space
all the silence that i need
guess it doesn't matter
that i'm trying to discern
between day & night
a lover and a half

and there are seasons too
but everything's timeless

(they said heal your headache with cold
oh i remember
heal uneasiness with gold)

so here i gingerly sit
so many questions
so many answers!
half a bottle of wine
ribbons around my ankles

(i was writing you letters before,
so what is the difference)

non-fleeting blanket
pretty berries
it's flower season,
the moon shines

the piano sounds faintly
gently
i guess it's an old melody, playing again
but this time
i'm listening