We didn’t decide anything.
But somehow it happened.
Count the almonds,count what was bitter and kept you awakecount me in:I looked for your eye when you opened it, no one was looking at you,I spun that secret threadon which the dew you were thinkingslid down to the jugsguarded by words that to no one’s heart found their way.Only there did you wholly enter the name that is yours,sure-footed stepped into yourself,freely the hammers swung in the bell frame of your silence,the listened for reached you,what is dead put its arm about you alsoand the three of you walked through the evening.Make me bitter.Count me among the almonds.– Paul Celantrans. Michael Hamburger
“Bobby, do you know what a metaphor is?” “A component, like a capacitor?”